


Principatus

by Scarlett_Leigh



Category: Legend of Zelda, Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Battle, Drama, Epic, F/M, Hyrule - Freeform, Link's father, Link's mother, Multi, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Romance, War, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 95,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Leigh/pseuds/Scarlett_Leigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To have seen such darkness, such tragedy, and then for no one to remember any of it, made their suffering seem like a cruel joke, a bad dream. For five years, Zelda and Link tried to piece together fractions of the lives they lead before the King of Evil. However, after Link inherits a medallion that once belonged to his mother, he leaves the Lost Woods to seek answers... and to warn the princess about haunting nightmares concerning a wedding, a river of blood, and a man with a glowing glass eye.</p>
<p>This time, it's not enough to fight from the shadows. With the help of the sages, a ranch girl, a headstrong commander, and grizzled old knight, the Princess of Destiny and the Hero of Time must grow into new roles and find another way to save a kingdom on the brink... even when a relic from the past reaches out with answers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Thunder rolled above him, shaking the ground below his feet._

_He stood in a high-arched chamber. Stone columns stretched from the floor to the vaulted ceiling. At the end of the corridor, a small marble altar and a large stone door with ancient Hylian markings carved into its surface came into view. He was in the Temple of Time._

_Hundreds of starched, stoic spectators filled the rows of wooden pews lining the sides of the hall. A long rolled out carpet of black velvet marked the pathway between the halves. Link quietly tip-toed into the hall and slid into the back pew, craning his neck to better see the figures at the altar. There were two men, one whom he recognized as a priest with his long white robe and black stole. The second man, back turned to Link, wore a black cape lined in smooth dark fur, and his right hand rested firmly on the hilt of a silver sword._

_The stone walls shook as lightning cracked outside of the sanctuary. Suddenly, the cast bronze doors near the back of the room burst open. Link could make out drops of rain pooling at the steps beyond them. A row of trumpeters began to sound, announcing the presence of an encroaching party, though no one else in the audience turned around to look._

_Immediately, Link's attention isolated on the woman at the point. A black veil concealed her facial features, but her tall, slender silhouette and floating gait seemed familiar. Another woman, yards behind her, carried the end of the black, puffy dress' long train. Link immediately recognized the tall, muscular woman in steel armor as Impa, the Sage of the Shadow Temple, and guardian to Princess Zelda._

_Link watched impatiently as the party made its way along the velvet carpet to meet the male figures at the altar. Not a single person in the audience moved, twitched, or even showed a slight change of emotion. The trumpets silenced, and the droning sound of an organ reverberating off the stone walls filled the void. The veiled woman drew up alongside the man with the sword, and as the two turned to face each other, the minister began to recite something in ancient Hylian. Link craned his neck but could not hear very well, though it sounded vaguely like a poem._

_"Sorry," Link whispered as he inched forward three rows, trying to find a better view of the proceedings. The patrons he displaced did not notice his interruption._

_"Through their commitment to one another, may they find happiness and prosperity all the days of their lives," the minister continued in a droning tone. Link's concentration turned, again, to the veiled woman. There was something about her figure, the way she held her shoulders, and the soft line of her chin... An instinct in Link's gut made the hair on the back of his neck stick up and his fingers twitch with nervous anticipation._

_The girl was in trouble. That much he knew._

_Just then, the black-garbed man leaned over to the woman and peeled back her veil, revealing her identity, and confirming Link's sense of distress._

_"Zelda," he gasped, heart sinking. Forgetting about the formal proceedings, he ran instinctively toward the altar, reaching for the sword on his back, only to find air. "Zelda, what are you doing? What has this man done to you?" He stammered._

_No one noticed._

_"Zelda!" Link lunged toward the cloaked man, but instead of meeting flesh, he passed right through, and collided with the black velvet stairs on the other side._

_"What the..." Link whipped his head around just in time to see the man lean in for a kiss on the princess' pale, quivering lips..._

Link gasped as his eyes shot open. Sitting up, he ripped the green hat from his head and ran his fingers through his shaggy, blond hair, a nervous habit, before collapsing back down onto the hillside with a sigh. Sleep did not come easily to the young Hylian, and when he could dream, restless visions of past pains and haunting memories flooded his subconscious. This dream, however, presented something far more sinister. It felt so detailed and tactile.

Link rolled over onto his stomach, letting the sun beat down on his exposed neck. He had experienced this particular dream before, a phenomena which Link knew from experience did not bode well. He closed his eyes and allowed once more the contents of the dream to mull over in his mind. He wondered whether she experienced a similar dream as well.

A rustling from some nearby bushes caught Link's attention, and he bolted instantly to his feet, reaching for his knife. The muscles along his shoulders and biceps tensed for conflict. Instead of battle cries and ear-shattering screams, however, the squall of laughter met Link's ear as four giggling Kokiri rolled into the clearing. A bouncing ball of arms and legs bounded toward the young Hylian, who quickly pocketed his knife before impact.

"Oouf!" Link hit the ground with a thud. The four small children's combined weight knocked the breath out of him.

"Ouch, Mido, you're stepping on my arm," a soft, feminine voice squeaked from underneath the pile.

"That wasn't me. Hey!"

Link rolled out from under the ruckus, grabbed the little red-headed Kokiri who had taken out his legs by the ankles, and hoisted the child, kicking and screaming, into the air.

"What's the meaning of this? Put me down, put me down now!" He demanded and pointed his finger threateningly at Link.

The other children squealed with delight.

"I want to be lifted, Link!"

"Me next." The three Kokiri closed in a semicircle around him.

"Well put me down first," Mido, dangling upside down, grumbled.

Link smiled and obliged, gently lowering the boy to the ground. Mido, a freckled, ginger-haired Kokiri boy, scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off. "Just because you're taller than a tree, doesn't give you the right to get any funny ideas. I'm still the boss of the Kokiri."

"I know, Mido. I didn't mean any harm," Link chuckled, sentimentally remembering the days when Mido's assertion of authority left him feeling like an invalid.

"Come play with us, Link!" Fado- a blonde Kokiri girl and tallest of the four- suggested, her hands clasped with joy.

"Yeah, let's play hide and seek!" One of the shaggy brunette twins chimed.

Link shook his head. "Not today, guys. I was just getting ready to head back to the village." His denial was met by a chorus of disappointment.

"Aww, come on, guys. We're not good enough for Link anymore. He's a grown-up," Mido snorted, arms folded across his chest.

"That's not fair, Mido. I said I'll play tomorrow."

"And what are you going to do instead?" The Kokiri boss narrowed his eyed. "Sleep some more? Grown-ups are so lazy."

Link huffed, faintly remembering a time when he would have groveled at the feet of Mido to let him play a game of hide and seek with the others. However, now towering almost three feet taller than the boy, Link only wished to keep the Kokiri's curiosity diverted from himself. If participation in a round of hide-and-seek with Mido and the others would buy him a moment's peace in the future, then so be it.

"Ok, fine," Link sighed, shoulder's slumped. "What should I count to?"

Four pudgy-cheeked, wide-eyed children beamed back at him. Fado and the twins took off running toward the brush, giggling with delight.

"Humph, okay then. Count for one minute," Mido huffed, puffing his chest out to make himself appear tougher. "And I better not catch you cheating, either."

"Whatever you say, boss," Link chuckled, throwing in the last word for amusement. Mido nodded, satisfied, and turned to follow the others into the depths of the Lost Woods. Alone again in the clearing, Link sighed heavily, and collapsed lazily onto the grassy hill.

"One, two, three..." He began counting out loud, timing his seconds with the slow pattern of his breathing.

Since he returned from his adventure in Termina almost three years ago, his position amongst the Kokiri had changed almost as drastically as his physical stature. Mido and the other children accepted his explanation that he was not a Kokiri at all, and that actually he had been born into the world beyond the forest—the realm of the Hylians. Since then, Link assumed a big brother-like role amongst the village. He taught them skills such as how to fish and shoot a bow. He took them for rides on his horse Epona, and most importantly, became the main attraction at every bonfire as the whole village of children gathered around eagerly to hear the many stories of his adventures.

"Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty, all right." Link finished his count and stood slowly, his eyes wandering around the clearing, before setting off in the general direction the children had scattered. He cut through the brush swiftly, pausing for a moment to allow his eyes time to adjust to their new, darkened surroundings. Locating the thin, winding foot trail before him, Link set off at an ambling pace through the Lost Woods, knowing that the children would not have drifted far from the marker.

"Filia, hide, Link will see you." A soft whisper caught the young Hylian's attention hardly half a minute along his stroll. He jerked toward the source of the noise and noticed a small, flickering light emanating from within the narrow hollow of an old pine tree.

Link crept toward the tree quietly, avoiding twigs and piles of leaves on the musty forest floor. Hunching over so the Kokiri child would not see him through the hollow, Link dodged around the back of the trunk and waited in silence.

"You're squishing me!" the tiny fey whose light drew Link to the tree argued with her charge.

"Sorry, there's just not enough..."

"Gotcha!" Link leapt around the side of the log.

A high pitched squeak reverberated off the bark walls of the small hideaway, followed by an echo of joyous giggles. It was Bairn, one of the brunette twin boys. He shot to his feet inside the log and jammed his head on the ceiling.

"Ouf, geeze Link. You scared Filia half to death."

"You screamed," the bouncing fairy objected.

"Only because you did," Bairn mocked.

Link shook his head. "Ok, guys, how about you help me look for the others?"

Further down the trail, Bairn noticed Fado hiding high in the branches of a flowery dogwood tree, and they unearthed the other twin, Kern, ducking behind a pile of rocks. The young Hylian then set off with the children to find Mido, but the sudden flash of a figure streaking through the foliage caught his attention and stopped him dead in his tracks. The others, preoccupied with chatting amongst themselves, failed to notice the newcomer who, Link assumed, preferred to remain hidden by the way she silently sunk into the brush around her.

"What's wrong, Link?" Bairn piped up, noticing Link lagging behind the group.

"Did you see something out there?" Fado asked. "Is it Mido?"

It was Saria, one of the Kokiri children from the village, and Link's oldest friend. Her green hair and clothes camouflaged her with the flora, but her deep blue eyes pierced through the brush and locked with his. There was something on her mind—something urgent.

"I-I'm going to have to call it a day, guys." Link waved and turned his back on the small group following him. Saria fled.

"Aww, come on Link, you haven't even found Mido yet," complained Fado, stamping her foot.

"Sorry, guys. You'll just have to find him for me." He turned his back on the trio and strode toward the spot in the wood Saria disappeared from only seconds before, without giving the Kokiri a second chance to object.

Moving swiftly to gain distance between himself and the others, Link paced through the dense forest to the spot he knew Saria awaited him, the one safe haven in the forest they could meet and converse without worry of being interrupted or overheard. The deeper into the forest he traversed, the thicker the shadows submerged him. No sunlight peeked through the thick canopy of trees, and a thin mist began to pool around the moss at his feet.

His instinct carried him mechanically and absentmindedly to his destination. A small tunnel of light illuminated his pathway ahead through the thicket, dancing with the silvery glow of the forest fairies who congregated in the Sacred Meadow Link and Saria made their hideaway.

The soft, whistling sound of an ocarina met his ears as he crossed the clearing toward its most striking feature— the vine and moss covered stone facade of a perforated, decaying temple. The crumbled remains of a staircase stretched high above the forest floor toward a small, dark entryway into the interior of the ghostly building. Sitting calmly in the shade of the staircase, atop the stump of an old oak tree, waited Saria, tapping her feet in the air to her lively song on the ocarina.

Link sauntered over to her and reclined in the grass facing his green-haired friend on the log. She continued her song, eyes closed, as if she hadn't noticed Link's entrance, although the young Hylian knew that was not the case. Saria believed in making time for music and always let her songs play though to their entirety. As the last notes of her song died on the breeze, Link looked up at her from his position at the base of the stump and smiled. "You wanted to see me."

Saria flushed. She reverently lowered the instrument from her lips and slipped it into the satchel beside her. "An important matter has been brought to my attention." She nodded and fixed him with a sad, steady stare. "But first, I want to talk about you. Link. I've been watching you a lot lately, and I am concerned. You hardly sleep, though you often try. You keep yourself isolated, even from me."

"Saria," Link exhaled, diverting her gaze, "you know I don't like to burden other people with my problems."

"But you should also know," Saria said gently, leaning forward, "that your problems could never be a burden to me." She smiled softly. The light of the forest fireflies danced impishly in her eyes. "You've been having dreams again, haven't you? The kind of dreams that feel real. The kind..." She craned her neck to meet Link's gaze. "The kind that come true."

His silence was answer enough. She sighed and leaned back onto her palms, eyes diverted toward the heavens. Link hung his head low and breathed deep, allowing the sounds of the forest to interlock with his thoughts.

"The dreams," he began, hesitantly, "always begin with me standing in a grand hall covered in black silk and velvet for a ceremony. It's full of people, but no one notices me."

"Is it a hall you recognize?" Saria asked, relieved Link took the initiative to speak.

"Well..." Link closed his eyes to fully grasp his mental image of the room. "It's the Temple of Time. I'm sure of it."

"Then what happens?" Saria pressed.

"It's a wedding ceremony. There's a man clothed from head to toe in black with a silver sword. I never get a good look at his face though. It's always slightly hidden in shadows."

"I see." Saria scrunched her nose in thought. "So this man is the groom, I assume."

He nodded. "The thing is, though, he doesn't do anything out of the ordinary. It's just the feeling I get watching him with his back turned, when he reaches out to her and pulls back her veil. I know there's more to the situation than what I am seeing."

"Who's the bride?" Saria cast him a curious glance.

Link fidgeted slightly. "Um, Princess Zelda," he replied sheepishly.

"Well, Link, don't you think you should warn her?" Saria pulled back, slightly shocked. "She could be in danger."

"Warn her about what?" Link shrugged. "That I had a dream about her marrying a guy with an affinity for black?"

"Link, don't be ridiculous," replied Saria, pointedly. "You and I both know you wouldn't be having these dreams if they didn't present some sort of warning. You said yourself that the man made you feel uneasy."

Link remained silent. He understood the nature of his dreams and likewise knew somehow, somewhere danger stirred. The man in black was no more a concoction of his imagination than Saria, sitting right beside him, and wherever that man was at this moment, a dark shadow followed.

"I know this man presents trouble," Link protested, "I'm just not sure what I can do about it. I don't even know if he's in Hyrule."

"Well the other prominent figure in your dream is the princess, and you do know where to find her."

"I know," Link paused, his mind drifting. "It's just been a long time. There's so much history there."

He recalled the last time he had been in the presence of the Princess of Hyrule. Shortly after he vanquished Majora's Mask and found his way back to his homeland, he returned to Hyrule Castle to restore the Ocarina of Time to its rightful place at Zelda's side. He remembered that day vividly, with the sun reflecting off the crystal water of the moat. She was so relieved to see that he returned safely. He recalled the warm feeling that shot up his hand the moment he pressed the ocarina into her palm, and all of the memories of the adventures they shared resurfaced—memories Link had been trying hard to bury.

"What about the Great Deku Tree? I'm sure he could shed some light on the situation," Saria chimed, wrenching Link from his memories. He knew that the guardian spirit of the forest would be her fallback.

When Link said nothing, Saria continued, "Well, the Great Deku Tree has felt your plight." She ignored how Link winced at the thought. "You are still connected with his spirit whether the bonds that kept you young have been severed or not."

"Perfect." Link dropped his head. He had mixed feelings when it came to the guardian spirit meddling with his life and his supposed destiny, an emotion Saria could not comprehend.

"Link," her eyes sparkled with tears. "The Great Deku Tree entrusted me with this painful task, but it is my duty as his faithful servant to see it through, no matter how much I cannot bear to see you leave my life."

"Saria, what are you talking about?" Link furrowed his brow and sidled up closer to the log. A cold strain in his oldest friend's tone of voice led him to deduce that their conversation had just taken a dramatic turn, and involved something very painful for the young Kokiri girl.

She pulled from her satchel a small bundle of green silk, grasped Link's bare hand, and pressed the parcel into his outstretched palm.

"What is this?" Link eyed the parcel with curiosity. The weight of the bundle suggested it was more than green silk, and whatever was inside it led Saria to believe it would drive him to leave the forest.

"Open it." She nodded with a bittersweet smile.

Slowly reaching out, as if expecting the parcel's contents to leap from his hand and bite him, Link peeled back the corners to reveal a small golden medallion that glistened in the twilight.

"What?" Link scrunched his brow curiously and pressed the medallion closer to his face. It seemed vaguely familiar. Its markings were clearly Hylian.

"It belonged to your mother, Link," Saria whispered.

Link's head shot up, and he dropped the little golden trinket. "Come again?"

"I've wanted you to have this for so long, but the Great Deku Tree insisted the time was not right. It was attached to the cloak she wore on the night I found her in the woods and brought her before our guardian. This green silk is all that was left of the garment that was not tattered or stained. I tried to preserve it as best I could."

Although she was sitting right next to him, Link heard Saria's words as though they were being whispered though a long tunnel. He gazed absentmindedly at the medallion shimmering on the ground, afraid to touch it, fearful that it would disintegrate upon contact. He still clutched the silken rag in his left palm. A shield surrounded by a large dog and bird of some sort traced the edges of the token. The longer he stared at it, the more clearly he could place it in his vision.

Link often saw his mother in his dreams, although her sacrifice was all he know of her. After he dispensed of Ganon's shadow and awakened Saria as the Sage of the Forest Temple, the Great Deku Tree's sprout induced a vision within Link of the night of her death. Her hair was long and golden, but matted and tangled by leaves and twigs. The hem of her white, flowing dress was stained in mud, and blood poured from a deep wound on her right shoulder. All color was drained from her complexion. He watched as she collapsed onto the forest floor to die had Saria not found her and swiftly guided her to the sacred meadow of the Great Deku Tree. Then he watched as she took her last breath with a smile, knowing her son would live to see the dawn of a peaceful day.

Link had been angry for a time. Furious at the old, fossilized carcass of the Great Deku Tree, and incensed at its sprout, though it was guilty of nothing except revealing the truth to him. The truth, at the time, meant that his life up to that point was a lie. He did not want to be a Hylian; he wanted to be a Kokiri, what he was raised and believed to be until that fateful day. Time, however, with its mystical sobering powers, had long since eased his anger into acceptance.

"And the Great Deku Tree knew you had this all this time. You two kept this from me?" Link exhaled.

"Don't be angry, Link," Saria rebutted. "The Great Deku Tree had his reasons."

"Of course." Link shook his head. The guardian spirit of the forest had a knack for withholding information from Link until he saw fit, and the Hylian in Link could not comprehend this. The Great Deku Tree, and his sprout, preached about Destiny to Link, a future which is already written; however, for all the young Hylian had already endured, Link could not bring himself to accept the idea of a predetermined future. He knew, however, there was no sense in arguing with Saria, who only acted as the Deku Tree commanded.

"Link," Saria whispered softly, placing her small hand on his cheek. "Are you alright?"

He mechanically reached forward for the medallion, folded his fingers around its precious metal surface, and shook his head. "I hardly know."

"I wanted so badly to tell you," said Saria softly, one lone tear cascading down her cheek.

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because I... I just couldn't. It was not my decision to make," she answered, tenderly.

"Then what makes today the right day?" Link eyed her curiously. "Why give me this now?"

"Link," Saria whispered. "You know why..."

The young Hylian bowed his head. A cold wave of realization knotted his stomach. "The forest... is the only place I've ever called home." He found himself saying aloud.

"But it is not the home of your blood, your kin," Saria urged. "It is not the home you fought valiantly to save, whose people owe you their lives. I know you returned to the forest to try and find some sort of peace of mind— but it hasn't worked. You know it hasn't, but there's someone out there who can help you. I know she can."

"Wow." Link blinked.

"Wow, what?"

"For a Kokiri you have a pretty solid understanding of the complex nature of Hylian emotions," laughed Link.

"Well, I am the Sage of the Forest," Saria smirked. Link smiled as well, opening his palm once more to stare at the medallion.

"You are a Hylian, Link," the not-so-young Kokiri girl whispered. "And the life of a Hylian does not so easily evaporate from the annals of history. Perhaps it is time you stop thinking about the future you've already seen and return to the past."

* * *

Her father's study was her favorite and most despised room in the castle. A round, high-ceilinged chamber, it encompassed three stories in one of Hyrule Castle's dozens of towers. A large mahogany desk, backed up to an arched window, and overlooked the castle's central courtyard. The walls of the study were lined with books and tablets Zelda remembered pouring over as a child while she watched, even idolized, her father at work. As she grew up, however, the fond memories of a doting father allowing his daughter to watch him work were replaced by those of a sovereign king struggling to properly groom his heir.

Another lecture. That was what Zelda knew she was in for as she sat in one of the rigid wooden chairs lining the wall of the windowless, musty foyer that led into her father's study. Barnabus Gerasim, a beady-eyed old man, who remarkably resembled a bulldog in a curly white wig, scribbled away furiously at a desk in the room's far corner, while Absalom de Caulmont and Percival O'Tool— two of her father's Gentlemen of the Bedchamber— muttered quietly amongst themselves.

Zelda sat awkwardly, hands folded in her lap, watching the tip of Barnabus' voluminous quill wiggle furiously in the air, as she tried to ignore the judgmental glances and sniggers Absalom and Percival directed at her.

Finally, after a few deadly silent minutes ticked away, a small piece of parchment squeezed out of a golden slot on the door and tumbled to the floor. The grizzled secretary snatched it up, adjusted a small pair of glasses teetering on the precipice of his nose and pronounced, "Your Highness, the king is ready for you."

"Thank you, Barnabus." Zelda rose regally from her seat, head high, shoulders back, and strode through the dark cherry door into the study beyond. In the past, Zelda had unfettered access to her father at work, whether it was just to spend quality time with him or to borrow a book from the study. That began to change after Zelda's numerous confessions of prophetic dreams, which the king deemed 'dangerous nonsense'. The study became her primary sentencing room.

Closing the door carefully behind her, Zelda crossed the soft maroon and gold-patterned Gerudo rug to the desk beneath the window where her father sat with his nose buried in a long scroll. He looked tired. His red velvet, white-trimmed robe draped down the back of his chair, rather than gracing the king's shoulders. Even his crown sat on the desk beside him rather than nestled in his thick, white, shoulder-length hair.

"Good afternoon, father," Zelda began.

"Good afternoon to you too, sweetheart," the king replied without looking up from his scroll. "Please have a seat."

Zelda drew up a small wooden chair alongside the desk and waited a few awkward seconds before the levy broke. "Father, it was not my fault. Prince Alec fell from his horse all on his own."

"I know that, dear, but you and I both know that is not the entire story," he replied without looking up from his reading.

"He should have just told me he was not a natural rider." Zelda shrugged. "I would have graciously obliged the young prince, but it was his pride, not mine, that goaded him to attempt something unfamiliar to him."

"But it was your pride, my child," the king raised his voice, slapping the scroll onto his cluttered desk surface, "that seized the opportunity to show off."

"I did no such thing," Zelda deflected. "Prince Alec claimed he knew how to canter, and it has been quite a while since Adda's been able to stretch her legs. Hyrule Field was so beautiful today."

"But you knew, Zelda, that Prince Alec would not refuse a woman, especially when he feels like he's being challenged."

Zelda grew furious at this latest accusation, but before she could articulate her vexation, her father continued. "And while his logic may be flawed, you still bent his judgement to your will, which by definition is taking advantage of someone."

"But—" The princess opened her mouth to speak before pausing to gather her thoughts. "Father, you know I opposed this courtship in the first place. I've known Prince Alec since we were both small children, and neither of us has ever found the other remotely interesting."

"I'm only trying to help you, Zelda," he lectured. "I want you to meet some nice suitable young men from kingdoms beyond Hyrule. There has not been an arranged royal marriage in our country for generations. However, that entails responsibility on your end. The burden is yours to choose a partner that will strengthen the monarchy and this kingdom."

"But Father, setting me up and forcing me to spend time with starched elitists like Prince Alec who—may I be so bold as to insinuate—cannot dress himself properly, let alone understand how to love, is hardly granting me freedom to choose the man I shall marry."

"It is only in your best interests, Zelda." The tired king shook his head.

"According to your gentlemen I presume." The princess rolled her eyes.

"That is hardly appropriate."

"But it's the truth!" Zelda's voice rose. "I know they don't like me, but they've never given me a chance, passing me off as flighty or indifferent because of my dr— because of some of the things I've said."

She began to say dreams, but held her tongue, knowing that it would prove frustrating and ultimately fruitless to revist the oft-debated topic of her prophetic visions.

"They only care about what is best for the realm." The king stressed, holding his chin in his hands.

"And you believe I do not?"

"Not at all sweetheart. I know you do. It's just... I want you to meet some acclaimed suitors from beyond our borders."

A frustrated sigh escaped Zelda's lips. "Because it would strengthen our foreign political alliances."

"Well, of course it would, but does that prospect not make you happy?"

"Not at the expense of love, it does not," she spat and eyed her father cynically. "Besides, what I believe the people of Hyrule truly need is a queen whom they can look to as a strong and sovereign leader, who they know will always have their best interests at heart. How can I be that icon when I am strapped to a man whose heart only belongs to the political ties he's creating for his home country?"

The king raised his voice to object, but Zelda cut him off tactfully. "Not the Duke of Ele'Daz, the Viceroy of Borhan, the three different Allendian princes, nor Prince Alec Lionheart of Selbee—not one of them have ever, ever expressed interest in knowing me as a person. The Kingdom of Hyrule needs a leader who is strong, father. I cannot be that rock trapped in a societal engagement. I am only sixteen, after all. I still have a few years left of being a catch."

The king bowed his head and rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. "I understand, darling. I do. It's just that I married your mother when I was seventeen, your mother fifteen, and we were so old when you were finally born. So many years between those two joyous occasions were wasted fretting over my ruling without an heir."

"Father..." Zelda rose to her feet and swept behind the desk to embrace the king's broad shoulders.

"It's just..." he continued, solemnly. "With me getting along in age, the hour where you will rise to the throne is fast approaching. I don't want you to feel the same pressure, the unnecessary burden, as I did early in my reign."

"I know, father," Zelda sighed. "I just want you to trust me. Have a little more faith, and stop listening to what your so called friends say about me."

"I do, and I will, my darling, only..."

"Only what?" Zelda held her breath.

"Just meet this last suitor." He picked up the scroll he had been pouring over earlier and fanned it out for Zelda to skim. "For your father, sweetheart."

The princess furrowed her brow, but before she could open her lips to argue, the headline of the mysterious scroll channeled her frustration into curiosity. "This is an interesting text, father. I hardly recognize..." She could vaguely decipher the looping, vertical characters, though they were not of a foreign language the princess had studied extensively. "Father," Zelda gasped, "this is written in Ten'al-tarian."

"Correct, Zelda. The suitor is Prince Zel-Taren of Ten'al-taria. His father Zel-Aran was recently crowned Czar and will be arriving in Hyrule in the coming days."

"Father, you cannot be serious. You know what the Ten'al-tarians were guilty of during the Civil War. You know better than anyone they cannot be trusted."

"It would be foolish and impudent of me," he continued monotonously, "to allow the sins of his father to mar my judgement of Czar-Aran and his new regime."

"And the sins of his grandfather, and great-grandfather, and great-great..."

"Hold your tongue, Zelda. Czar-Aran and the young prince will be your guests here shortly, and you must be cordial. I only ask that you allow Zel-Taren to be your escort during their visit while I meet with his father. If you set aside your pride, I'll set aside mine, and perhaps Hyrule will benefit because of it. Our relationship with the Ten'al-tarians has been so frosty in the past, the only possible outcome of this meeting would be to our mutual advantage." The king paused and leaned back in his chair. "Now, does that sound reasonable?"

"Uhh..." Zelda shook her head. She was cornered. While the prospect of entertaining another suitor did not appeal to her, she could not under the circumstances refuse her father. Perhaps he even had a point. Setting a hospitable, open-minded tone for the dignitaries could only serve to strengthen Hyrule's relationship with their once most detested neighbors to the northwest. "I suppose."

"Good, then we have an agreement." The king smiled, straightened the scroll out onto the desk, and signed his large, looping signature on the bottom. "Our business here is concluded, then. Please leave this with Baranabus on your way out." The king rolled up the scroll and passed it firmly to the slightly mystified princess.

"Very well, then." Zelda snatched the scroll and crossed the room once more. With one hand on the door, the other tightly grasping the parchment, she gazed back over her shoulder at her father, already buried deep in another document. He never used to work this hard, she thought to herself. Rather than saying anything, however, the princess resorted to a half-hearted, "See you at dinner, I suppose," before passing again into the foyer.


	2. Chapter 2

With a heavy heave, Link jarred a wooden trunk loose from under his bed and stumbled backward into his tree stump table. A cloud of dust kicked up in the wake. He coughed, wiped the dirt from his eyes and wrenched the lid open. The musty scent of items waking up from a long hibernation filled the small, round room.

Link extracted first from the trunk a pair of leather gauntlets. He slipped them snugly over his hands and forearms, flexing his fingers to break them in after years of neglect. Next, his fingers wrapped around the smooth, pliable limb of a bow and a glossy, wooden quiver. He strapped the container around his chest and tucked the bow behind it. At the bottom of the trunk rested his most precious belongings, the items that had come to his defense time and time again— his sword and Hylian Shield.

Tenderly grasping the sleek mahogany casing, Link unsheathed the sword and ran his thumb along the blade to inspect its condition. The weapon was a gift from a swordsmith he met in Termina. A lightweight but deadly blade, the sword had been infused with an enchanted gold dust to help it maintain a razor sharp edge.

"Seems to have done the trick," Link said to himself as he slid the Gilded Sword back into its sheath and attached the leather strap to his back alongside the quiver.

Finally, he withdrew the shield whose surface shined with the crest of the royal family. The protective guard had faced such terrible enemies as Ganondorf and Majora by its master's side. For this reason, Link locked the shield away with his other most precious items during his isolation in the forest—there was _so_ much history...

Fully equipped, Link grabbed his knife and the satchel storing his everyday items—his ocarina, wallet, and feed for Epona—from the table. The medallion shimmered on the unfolded green silk in the center of the small tree stump; Link had spent all night staring at it. With one last forlorn glance around the small hollow, he scooped up the precious trinket and slipped it into his satchel. At last prepared, he ducked through the narrow doorway and closed the cloth curtain on his quaint abode.

Soft morning sunlight peeked over the canopy of trees as Link scanned the still village before quietly descending the ladder onto the damp forest floor. Epona whinnied at the sight of Link from her small, hand-built stable.

"Shhh, we don't want to wake anyone." He gently stroked the mare's nose, but she continued to fidget excitedly as Link prepared her bridle and saddle for their first long ride in months. The sweet smell of morning dew on fresh grass filled Link's lungs. Except for a few bullfrogs and crickets, the village remained quiet and still.

"Come on, girl," Link coaxed Epona gently toward the path leading to the northern border of the Lost Woods. Much to Link's pleasure, not a single Kokiri nor fairy crossed him.

The decision, as Saria predicted, proved an easy one. The medallion stoked his sense of curiosity unlike anything he had encountered since his return from Termina. The long-slumbering feeling of purpose and anticipation awoke with a tingle in his fingertips whenever he wrapped them around the trinket's golden surface.

His dreams also factored into his decision. What a fool he had been for not acting on them sooner— for allowing them to grapple with his subconscious and helplessly torment him for weeks! For what? He questioned himself. What about his nightmares rendered him so numb and indecisive?

The honest answer, Link shamefully acknowledged, had more to do with who the dreams were about than what. The 'who' had observed many of Link's best and worst moments and reminded the young Hylian of a future erased by time. The 'who' now slept soundly at this hour in her lavish quarters at Hyrule Castle, soon to awake before all manner of maids, servants, and cooks.

"Where's he going?" A whisper met the young Hylian's ears. With the northern edge of the village only a few yards away, Link hesitated before looking back over his shoulder. To his astonishment, dozens of small heads peeped around corners of homes and through peeled-back curtains, eyes glued to his back. How long had they been watching him? Link could only guess, as he debated between speaking or darting for the thicket.

"Um," his jaw dropped, "I..."

"Link, wait!" Mido ran toward him down the path. Link took a few steps toward the child, who grasped his chest for breath upon reaching the Hylian.

Link bent down to his knees, drawing eye level with the child. "Mido, breathe. What is it?" he asked, placing his right hand on the Kokiri's shoulder to stabilize him.

"I... demand to know where... you are going!" Mido gasped between wheezy breaths. "As leader of the Kokiri—and your friend—you owe that to me, and to this village."

Link looked down to the ground before gazing past Mido into the dozens of wide eyes, staring curiously at the pair. "I'm leaving the forest, Mido. I'm on my way to Hyrule Castle."

The freckled Kokiri pursed his lips and nodded. "I see. So..." He paused, giving extra thought to his next words. "Will we ever see you again?"

"I don't know." Link shook his head honestly. A twinge of sadness choked in his throat. "The future is always uncertain, Mido, so... perhaps." He smiled weakly.

"Good." A rare grin illuminated Mido's face, and he extended his tiny open palm. Link recoiled slightly in surprise before grasping it in his own leather-covered fingers.

"Best of luck to you then, Link," said Mido, firmly shaking the young Hylian's hand. Link rose from the dirt and readjusted his straps before waving to the other children.

There was a calm sense of finality to the moment. The scene marked the culmination of events a long time coming, and while it sealed the ending of one chapter in his life, Link knew, from the way Mido smiled at his open-ended promise, that the forest would always be welcome to him. That little reassurance expunged from Link any lingering feelings of doubt he had about leaving his fortress of solitude. With a silent nod, Link turned his back on Mido and the others.

"Let's go, girl." He patted Epona's side and marched with the mare through the barrier between the village clearing and congested line of trees and underbrush. As shadows enveloped him, a familiar lively whistle caught his attention. Just ahead on a small ledge overlooking the village, a green-clad figure stood on a grassy, sunny hill. Her tiny hands caressed a fairy ocarina against her cheek. Saria...

No words could adequately communicate what she meant to him, nor he to her— which was why rather than a verbal goodbye, she pressed the instrument to her lips and let the jubilant, earthy sound of Saria's Song float through the humid, windless air. The tune carried through the woods, reverberated off the leaves, trees, rocks, and accompanied him the entire length of the dense forest path toward Hyrule Field.

* * *

"Wake up, Milady." A chipper maid strode into the room and whipped back the curtains, causing the princess to recoil and flee deeper into her warm, downy covers.

"Time to rise and shine." The maid, a mousy-looking lady named Cara, strode casually over to the bed and wrenched the comforter from its surface with the same care she showed the curtains. Zelda helplessly moaned her discontent, wishing only to escape once more into the unfettered realm of her dreams.

"Come now, Milady. You have a busy day ahead of you. His Majesty expects the royal party from Ten'al-taria to arrive sometime this afternoon."

"That's what His Majesty said yesterday," grumbled Zelda, rubbing her eyes.

"Nevertheless, we must prepare you to meet with the dignitaries, so it's up, up, up!" Her voice reached a higher pitch with each syllable.

With one final groan of indignation, Zelda hoisted herself from the bed to face the bright sunshine beaming through the open window, and trudged toward her dressing rooms where her ladies-in-waiting preceded her.

Seven women sat on the princess' court. Three maids-of-honor, the daughter's of upper-nobility in line to be married off to men of equal or greater stature, and four ladies-in-waiting, personal assistants to the princess of respected societal standing. While maidens were often appointed, the queen or princess of Hyrule traditionally selected her own ladies. For the most part, that was the case for Zelda, except one—

"Milady, would you prefer the lavender or the rosemary perfume?"

Veronica de Caulmont— the daughter of her father's Groom of the Stool— was admittedly a beautiful girl, with long brunette hair and sea-green eyes, but a constant thorn in Zelda's side. She was born to Absalom's mistress, but invited to court as part of a deal Zelda struck with the king— Veronica for Hadley Ethelberg, Zelda's childhood friend.

Hadley was a plain girl with a brunette braid. Zelda met her at her mother's dress shop on one of the princess' youthful misadventures into the market. Zelda would sneak away from Impa's watchful eye to meet Hadley at the shop to play dolls, dress-up, or hide-and-seek. Hadley didn't know Zelda was royal until Impa tracked the mischievous princess down. Compared to Veronica's frivolous attitude and incessant penchant for gossip, Hadley was such refreshing company.

After ten minutes of soaking in a lavender-perfumed bath, Zelda sat in a thin slip at her vanity. Her four ladies flapped around her like screeching Keese—Veronica pulling at her hair, Hadley tugging at her brow, and the Middleton twins fussing through her wardrobe.

She fought the urge to sneeze after Hadley battered her nose with an itchy white powder, and begrudgingly resisted the compulsion to scream after every vicious jerk of her hair. To argue would be fruitless, lengthen the process, and provide more fodder for Veronica to feed her father concerning Zelda's lack of propriety.

"Please rise, Milady." Mercy, one of the raven-haired Middleton twins, rounded on the princess with what seemed like fifty pounds of clothing and undergarments. Standing on a podium in the center of the dressing room, Zelda helplessly heeded her commands—"Arms up, arms down, step here, breathe in—" through layers of slips, skirts, and lace.

It was a beautiful blue dress, the princess acknowledged, with white trim and gold embroidery. The sleeves' silky trains flowed down to her knees gracefully, but the material itched and the bodice constricted her lungs. Around Zelda's waist, Mercy attached a light-blue apron—a traditional royal garment— embroidered with the royal family crest. However, the jeweled, golden fixtures weighed her down.

Every day this happened. She would wake up surrounded by a throng of pesky maids. Then her ladies would poke and prod her to create a masterpiece with her appearance. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as Mercy's twin, Amery, tugged fiercely at the lace on the back of her bodice. Through the pain and the powder, Zelda could still faintly recall the feeling of garments stretched across her skin which could withstand the elements and allow her the freedom to run, ride horses, swim, and climb without restriction. She missed Sheik so...

"You're all set then, Milady," Mercy chirped. "What do you think?"

"You did a wonderful job ladies," Zelda replied half-heartedly. "The dress is lovely." Gathering the ends of her skirts, she stepped down from the platform and slid her toes into a pair of golden slippers. Finally, returning to her vanity, she eased open a narrow drawer containing four dazzling crowns nestled tenderly on red satin pillows. Shoulders back and chin up, Zelda selected one studded with sapphires, lowered the jewel slowly onto her forehead, and fastened it into her long blond hair.

A proper, royal woman stared back at her—one who exuded confidence and pride in her stately existence. She wanted so badly to be that princess in the mirror instead of the one trapped inside, the one who coveted freedom.

"Mistress Hadley, is Mistress Impa ready for me?" she asked with conviction, trying her best to channel the princess in the mirror.

"Indeed, Milady." The lady clapped her hands. "She is waiting for you in the drawing room. Should I alert her that you are ready?"

"Please." Zelda bowed her head low and silently sent a prayer to the Goddess Nayru for the strength to make it through another day.

* * *

"Fresh fruit and vegetables from the village of Ashleigh. The best produce around!"

"Bombs! We have bombs here, ten for thirty Rupee special!"

"Stop by Aakav's Apothecary on the square, potent potions and medical miracles!"

"Young swordsman, please, just a few Rupees for food..."

Castle Town was as bustling and exhilarating as he remembered it, but the crowds and traffic though the streets were quite a bit more congested. Zora, Gorons, Gerudo, and Hylians from across the four provinces congregated on the main square to peddle their wares. Beside a marble fountain in the center of the plaza, three men in puffy white pants bounced in a circle, entertaining with a spirited song on wooden recorders. Children weaved through the ruckus playing games with marbles and sticks, and a company of soldiers marched in two single-file lines down the cobblestone streets, clanking and clamoring.

A stray brown dog darted into the street and aggravated Epona, who tossed her head in disgust. Link quickly grabbed her white mane and stroked her nose to calm her down. He could sense the crowds made her nervous, so he led the young mare along a more quiet, discreet alley toward a public stable. After unfastening Epona's bridle and saddle, filling a bucket in the stall with water, and paying a drooling old man who smelled like pigs to feed her, Link set off to find the inn and some food.

It was early evening by the time he arrived in the market, far too late to call upon the Princess. Back at the fountain, he glanced up at the towering white stone castle and wondered where in that royal maze she was at this very moment.

"I heard a sandstorm in the desert delayed their journey." A busty old woman sidled up to the fountain with her back turned to Link.

A eager cluster of Hylians closed in around her, shoving Link to the side. He couldn't help but overhear their conversation as a mustached man replied, "Well, my wife's cousin has it on good authority they've made it has far as Remington."

"That would mean they'll be here by tomorrow afternoon." Another man with a long white pony-tail shook his head.

"Dear Gods in heaven," the first woman cried out with one hand on her heart, the other raised to the sky. "Whatever business they have in Hyrule proper, it had better not keep them here too long."

Link pulled a green Rupee from his wallet and flicked it lazily into the fountain. There was a noticeable degree of tension in the air. Dozens of people congregated in groups and whispered amongst themselves. It eerily reminded Link of the first time he had come to the market, when another unwelcome visitor had business with the king.

After one more half-spirited glance up at the spires of Hyrule Castle, Link turned away from the main square toward Castle Town Inn. He had stayed there the first night he had been to town, back when everything about Hylians—the food, the customs, the way they dressed—he thought fresh and exciting.

Located only a block off the plaza, the inn was easy enough to spot as one of the tallest structures in the market. The second he opened the door, however, a wall of noise knocked him over and pushed him back into the street. The lobby looked like a solid block of humanity. There was no room to breathe, let alone stand. Link couldn't even see the front desk from the entrance. Holding on tightly to his belongings, the young Hylian painstakingly elbowed and shuffled his way through the crowd.

Behind the desk, a tall, balding man with hairy arms frantically fumbled with a set of keys. He paused for a moment to wipe the sweat trickling down his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Excuse me, sir!" Link shouted to catch his attention. "Could I have a room, please? One room..."

"Sorry, kid. We're overbooked as it is." He shrugged and turned to pick up a basket of linens.

"Well, there's got to be some place I can stay," Link interjected, "a bench, a chair..."

"If you can find an empty seat, you're more than welcome to it," the innkeeper huffed, "but good luck."

"Wait, please sir. I don't come to town often. There's gotta be something..."

Hoisting the heavy basket onto his shoulder, the innkeeper groaned, "Look, a friend of mine owns a bar on the south side called The Bumper. Sometimes he has extra space when we overflow." With that, he took off barreling through the crowd like a Bombchu about to explode, dropping white linens in his wake.

Back out in the street, the clouds were turning pink as the sun disappeared behind the western wall of the city. Candlelight flickered in the windows of the cramped townhouses along the block, as men and women retreated from the streets in time for supper. A beggar sat beneath a ramshackle tent, clanking his tin cup on his knee, and a lamplighter made his way meticulously down the street with his matches and ladder.

"Excuse me, sir!" Link ran over to the lamplighter and offered him a hand down from the wobbling steps.

"Thank you, young man," the gentleman blessed him. Tufts of white hair protruded from the sides of his black chaperon, and his gray deku-nut sized eyes focused blearily on Link. The young Hylian hoisted the ladder, carried it to the end of the next block, and wedged it firmly between the cracks in the stone street.

"I'm very grateful," the lamplighter responded to Link's gesture, "but as I already told another young man yesterday, I don't need an assistant. I couldn't pay for one even if I did."

"Oh no, sir," Link corrected the man. "I'm not looking for a job. I just need some directions."

"A visitor to town?"

"Yes, sir." Link nodded.

"A lot of outsiders around this week." The old man squinted and inched closer to Link. "Makes it harder to get all the lamps lit. I can't start as early as I'd like with the streets so crowded."

"I'm so sorry," Link deflected. "I'll get out of your way, just... I don't have a place to stay yet, so I kind of need some direction."

"Well, I've lived in this town for fifty years," the old man puffed his chest out. "lighting every lamp every night. What is it you're looking for?"

"Umm... well the inn is full, so the innkeeper said I should try The Bumper..."

"Oh, The Bumper, yes. They should be able to help you. The landlord's very friendly to outsiders. It's far off the main square, so it doesn't get flooded with foreign traffic and soldiers like the inn does." The old lamplighter paused, scrunched his nose, and looked both ways down the darkening street. "Hmm... I would go back to the end of this block and take a right. Go six or seven blocks over a small bridge, past the laundry pool. Then take a left and keep walking until you reach the eastern wall. From there take another right, and it'll be about a block from there. It's tucked away pretty discreetly in the southeast corner near the entrance to the old catacombs, but it's supper time, so it'll be well lit and lively."

Link tried to envision the directions in his head. "So... the southeast corner."

"Yes, right at the end of this street, past the laundry pool, eastern wall, take a right..."

"OK," Link responded hesitantly. "Umm... thanks for the help."

"Don't mention it." The lamplighter nodded and steadily began to ascend the ladder once more.

Link tried his best to follow the old man's instructions, but the further away from the main square he travelled, the more narrow and unfamiliar everything appeared. Buildings seemed to grow as he walked, bending inward to block out the moonlight. He had never been toward the outer edges of the city before, and nightfall only plunged his surroundings further into the surreal.

"Selfishness and greed, hatred and anger; the dark hearts of Hylians have upset the Gods," an old woman, hunched over a gnarled cane, muttered as she stumbled along the cobblestone toward Link. "The end is coming... the Gods are angry..."

Side-stepping the old woman, Link darted to the end of the block. The streets were mostly deserted, and the few Hylians left in the streets stood with their backs in corners, faces hidden by shadows. Link could feel their eyes on his neck.

At last he passed the laundry pool and came up to the eastern wall. The slow rumble of Hylian laughter crescendoed as he progressed down the block. A well-lit window came into view, and the dark contours of figures within danced on the stone wall across the street. Above the door, a metal sign shaped liked two clinking glasses creaked on rusty hinges. This was the place.

The door swung open almost without contact. It was busy, but not crowded, just as the lamplighter suggested. The attendance was mostly men, though a few women lingered amongst the tables— one with a screaming baby in the corner. Some of the patrons turned to look at Link as he walked in, but most continued on with the conversations at their tables, uninterrupted.

The room was slightly smaller than the lobby of Castle Town Inn and packed with as many tables as it could hold. From a black kettle swaying on a stone fireplace, the heavenly smell of roasting beef and potatoes filled the room and made Link's stomach cramp with hunger. He maneuvered his way to the bar, where there were a few empty stools, and scanned the crowd for the proprietor.

"Jus' give me a second, lad, and I'll be right with ya," called a man standing in the middle of the sea of tables. He was perhaps the tallest Hylian Link had ever seen. His stature was more akin to a Goron's, and a thick mane of wiry, black hair covered most of his face. His deep, throaty laugh shook the floor, and beer sloshed from the pitcher in his hand as he stumbled back to the bar.

"I haven't seen ya here before," the grizzled man chuckled as he set down the sticky pitcher and wiped his hands on a dirty rag draped over his shoulder. "An' I never forget a face."

"No, I'm not from around here," Link replied.

"Well, me name's Hildebert Gerhardt, but jus' call me Bertie. Everyone does." Bertie extended a frying pan-sized hand. Link grasped it and tried to not flinch through the bartender's bone-crushing shake.

"I'm Link." The young Hylian smiled, flexing his fingers.

"Well, Link, welcome to The Bumper." Bertie waved his arm as though presenting a prize. "I'm surprised you found us. We usually don't get visitors from out of town this far from the main square."

"Actually, I came from Castle Town Inn. They were overbooked and the proprietor told me to try here."

"Yeah, Imrich's a good friend of mine," the bartender replied. "I sure pity him right now. People jus' gotta come from all over to be in the center of the action..." His voice trailed off as he shook his head. "Well, nevertheless, we're glad to have you here. Ya look well-traveled, so we've gotta get you somethin' to drink, of course."

"Actually sir," Link quickly interjected, "what I'm really looking for is a place to stay. The inn was..."

"Overbooked, sure. We'd love to have ya here. After raisin' five children, Isobel and I love to have company. Keeps things lively aroun' here. Honey!" Bertie cupped his hands around his mouth and called into the crowd. "Can you fetch some stew for this lad?"

"I really appreciate this, sir," said Link, but Bertie wouldn't hear it.

"It's our pleasure. Now, about that drink. We've got the best selection of ales in town, but this one right here—" The bartender swiped a tin mug from underneath the cabinet and filled it with a foaming, amber liquid from a wooden barrel. "This is a house specialty. We brew it right here in the tavern. You won't find a better-tasting beverage in all of Hyrule, guaranteed."

Link barely caught the sloshing mug Bertie sent sliding across the counter. A middle-aged woman with tanned skin and dark hair leaned over his left shoulder and placed a steaming bowl of stew below his nose. He'd forgotten how much he missed Hylian food...

"This here's me wife, Isobel." Bertie nodded as he wiped off the counter. "And somewhere around here is one of me boys who lives in town. Me two oldest boys opened a bar in Kakariko, the youngest is in Kenton with the army, and me only daughter runs an inn in Ashleigh. But enough about me. Where ya from, Link?"

"Umm..." Link choked on a chunk of potato, "F-Faron Provence."

"Oh, so the southern country. Haven't been there since me daughter's wedding, but do tell—is the green hat thing the style down there?"

"Not uncommon, I guess," Link chuckled and swallowed a spoonful of broth which slid warmly down his throat.

"So what business ya in?" Bertie continued to pry. "That's a nice sword ya have..."

"Actually, Bertie—" Link swiftly cut into the question before he had to start drafting lies. "I was wondering if you knew why people around here seem to be acting a little... well, odd? I've never seen so many visitors."

"Soon as word got out about the king entertaining the Ten'al-tarians, folks started pourin' in from all over." Bertie grumbled. He didn't seem to mind Link's abrupt interjection. "The king better know what he's doin' all right, cause those Ten'al-tarians are one slick, shady lot. Doesn't take a nobleman to know that, neither."

"Shady..." Link arched his brow with curiosity. "How so?"

"Now what kind of question is that?" Bertie folded his arms across his chest and eyed Link narrowly. "Everyone knows what Ten'al-taria's guilty for, what they did during the Civil War..."

Link's continued look of bewilderment drew a sigh from Bertie. The bartender, elbows on the counter, leaned closer to the young Hylian. His voice reduced to a harsh whisper. "Kid, I don't know what rock you've been livin' under, but the Ten-al-tarians harbored leaders of the revolution during the Civil War. Not only that, they supplied the rebels with soldiers, armor, and weapons. After the war, they offered sanctuary to any known resurgent who escaped the king's purge. For hundreds of years they've wanted nothin' but to see Hyrule fall, and ain't no way no new Czar they have is gonna change that."

Link's eyes grew wide with bewilderment. He knew nothing about this civil war, except that it happened recently enough for its memory to still be fresh. "What is Ten'al-taria exactly? If you don't mind me asking..."

"Oh, it's a nasty land, that's for sure," Bertie replied. "Never seen it myself. Never needed to... It lies to the northwest of Hyrule, in the lands beyond the desert. There's mountains so high they puncture the heavens, and it snows all year long. It's always gray, always cold, and always dirt poor. It's no wonder they've been bloody jealous of us all this time."

"I see..." Link wrapped his hand around the tin mug and tilted back the last drop of ale. If these royal dignitaries were arriving tomorrow, he would have to make haste to meet with the princess. Surely Zelda knew what sort of danger they presented...

"Another round, Link?" Bertie asked, noticing the empty mug.

"Not tonight, but thanks," the young Hylian replied. "I have some early business to attend to, so I best try and get some rest."

"Sure thing." Bertie cleared the empty bowl and mug. "Isobel, can you show the lad upstairs?" He called to his wife across the room

"What do you need, sugar?" She yelled back, pouring beer from a pitcher at a table near the door.

"Can you show the lad upstairs?" He repeated louder over the tavern noise.

"Oh, sure thing." She turned back to the three men at the table, set the half-full pitcher down, and chimed, "Drink up, boys," before signaling for Link to follow her.

The barmaid grabbed a candle from the ledge above the fireplace and led Link up a narrow set of stairs into the tavern's upper quarters. Four doors traced the right wall of a cramped, dark hallway. Isobel escorted Link through the third door into a quaint room illuminated only by moonlight streaming through an open window.

"I'm sorry it'll be a bit noisy for a few more hours," Isobel noted, and set the candle down on a wooden table between two cots. "But once everyone's good and liquored up, they'll calm down."

"Oh, it's not a problem." Link walked into the room and looked around. "Um... does it matter which bed I take?"

"Not at all. Take your pick, honey. Someone may join you in a few hours. It's hard to tell so early in the evening who will and won't be in any condition to walk home." Her laugh was low and lyrical. "Do you have any other things?" she asked in a very mother-like tone.

"No, ma'am. Just what's on my back."

"All right then, sugar. I'll leave the candle with you. Breakfast will be served at sunrise, and Bertie makes a mean cup of coffee, so you won't want to miss it."

"I... just..." Link nodded and smiled. "Thank you. This is all very nice."

"Don't worry about it. Bertie and I love having company. After raising five children, you miss not having ruckus around you all the time. Now sleep tight, honey." Isobel winked and, with a twirl, danced back into the dark hallway.

Alone in the quaint, candlelit room, Link sauntered up to the bed beside the window and dropped his belongings onto the floor beside it. The window faced northward, and in the distance the white-stone castle glistened in the moonlight. From the pocket of his satchel, Link withdrew the green silk parcel and let the corners of it fall open in his palm.

On one side of the medallion sparkled the crest of the royal family, and on the other side, an unfamiliar assemblage of markings now seared into his memory. His fingers traced the raised outline of the large dog and bird. Below the small shield in the center, were some ancient Hylian figures emblazoned on a small scroll. The most curious marking on the medallion, however, twinkled above the shield—a circular symbol oddly akin to the Spiritual Stone of the Forest.

His dreams, and the medallion— two clues shrouded behind a veil of mystery. The young Hylian only hoped that the Princess of Destiny's wisdom, once more, could shine some light onto the riddles tormenting him so...


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on, just let me in!" Link argued, waving a piece of yellowing parchment in front of the man's helmet. "I have a letter from the princess herself. Why would I be lying?"

The palace guard snatched the letter and tilted back his visor to scan it. "This letter is ancient. I can barely make out the signature," he scoffed. "Wait..." the guard paused for a few seconds, parsing the letter more thoroughly before he burst into a fit of laughter.

"This is Link," he read from the paper at hand. "He is under my orders to save Hyrule, ha!" The guard shoved the unfolded parchment back into Link's chest. "Wow, that's a good one, ha ha..."

"It still proves I know the princess." Link continued to protest, unfazed. "It's in her handwriting!" He reached into a small leather pouch at his waist and withdrew his fairy ocarina. "I know the song of the royal family. If I play it, will you let me pass?"

The guard, calming down, took a deep breath and eyed Link directly. "Look, even if I were to believe you, there's no way you're getting into the castle today. The royal ambassadors from Ten'al-taria left Remington this morning. The entire castle staff, including the royal family, is making haste for their arrival and doesn't have time to deal with a strange kid running around."

Link rolled his eyes. "But I'm not..."

"Maybe try back another day," the guard cut him off. "I can't guarantee you anything, but I'll pass your request along."

"Don't bother..." Link sighed, folded up the wrinkled letter, and pocketed it beside his ocarina. He turned his back on the guard and vented his frustration by kicking a pebble in the dirt road. He was just trying to be nice— just trying to follow the rules— but as always with the guards, they never listened and forced Link to do things the hard way.

The young Hylian trudged down the path leading into the market; however, after rounding a sharp bend in the road, he turned to his left. A wall of vines blanketed a cutaway niche in the hillside, growing just as thickly as they had five years ago.

"They really need to remember to cut these things," Link laughed as he grabbed a handful of weeds. The young Hylian used them to scale the wall onto the ledge of a narrow, grassy cliff. He paused for a few moments to make sure no one noticed him and scanned the path ahead leading to the castle. A few guards patrolled the road beyond the gate, two stood watch over the drawbridge, and a few were sprinkled throughout the rolling hills— nothing more than he had handled in the past.

"Well, Princess," he whispered to himself, "here goes nothing." Link closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer to Farore before crouching low and hustling along the ledge toward the castle.

* * *

Eyes closed, lips tightly pressed against the Ocarina of Time's sleek surface, Zelda blew softly into the instrument. The melancholy tune of the precious song of the royal family, her lullaby, lingered in the open air. Its soothing, undulating rhythms hushed her restless spirit.

She lay on her back in the grass, lavender skirts unfurled through a bed of blue irises and bright yellow daisies. Sunlight streamed into the open-aired chamber, warming her cheeks and exposed shoulders. The princess smiled and stretched. Though completely surrounded by the towering stone walls of her prison, this small enclave— with its running water, fresh air, lush grass, and flowers of all colors— was her own little pocket of heaven.

She heard footsteps rustling in the grass behind her. Sitting up quickly, the princess turned to face the entryway. What she saw made her heart leap into her throat. "Link..."

_An illusion? It must be. He left... or so she thought._

In a whirlwind of lavender silk and flowers, the princess leapt to her feet and ran to meet the man who stumbled upon her solitude— the Hero of Time. A paralyzing feeling in her stomach inhibited her ability to speak, and a thousand conflicting emotions numbed her thoughts. Nostalgia and anxiety, excitement and trepidation—the princess grew dizzy as she held her breath and scanned his body from head to toe. The rugged warrior, with unruly blond hair, and gentle blue eyes— he looked just like the hero she remembered in her dreams— only he was soaking wet.

To her astonishment, the young Hylian removed his hat and bowed low to the ground. "Your Highness..." he whispered. She felt weak.

"Link, I..." the princess reached out to touch his cheek and tilted his chin so they locked eyes. "Since when were formal greetings ever a part of our relationship?" She caressed his wet palm between her own bare fingers and led him silently to her resting place in the grass.

"I see you've been swimming in the moat again," the princess laughed. "You know, there is a drawbridge that goes over it."

No reply. Silence replaced Zelda's laughter as she fought the urge to let questions spill endlessly from her tongue.

_Why had he come? Where had he been? Why had he not returned in, Nayru's love... four years, five?_

Zelda fanned her skirts, and reclined slowly into the grass, hands folded across her lap. The young hero spread his possessions out in the sunlight to dry. She examined his every move as he positioned himself by her side and waited for her to make the next move.

"After all this time," the princess finally let slip, "I thought you left Hyrule, Link."

"Not exactly..." His blue eyes met hers. A mixture of guilt and remembrance shone through.

"Then what kept you away?" The princess pressed. She thirsted for answers, for the truth. "The last time I saw you— I didn't know it would be the last time for years. I never wanted you to believe I did not..."

"You did nothing, Zelda." The words tumbled from his lips. "I just needed... some time."

"Time!" Zelda scoffed. "What is Time to us?"

"A cruel trick..." he murmured beneath his breath.

Zelda eyed Link curiously. Something grappled with the young hero's subconscious and bubbled beneath his rugged surface. "If I didn't know you any better, Link, I would say you're acting rather cowardly."

"You're kidding," the young Hylian half-laughed.

"Well," Zelda prodded, "you come here, all put out and silent, expecting me to force explanations from you. That's pretty cowardly behavior, if you ask me."

"Zelda," he shook his head and sighed. "I've long forgotten what fear feels like."

"Than what's wrong?" Zelda chided with more venom than she intended. "Why are you here? Why now? Why haven't you returned sooner? What kept you away?"

"Wow, slow down." Link held up his hands.

"I most certainly will not!" She folded her arms across her chest. "Not until I've had my say."

The young hero said nothing. He gazed blankly back at her, eyes wide, and waited.

" _You_ may have run away, but that door was not open to me. This may sound completely silly, but it felt like... it seemed as if... you'd forgotten me, Link. You, my only real friend, the only person in this entire kingdom who really knows me, who understands—"

"I never forgot you, Zelda," the young hero cut into her rant. "Though I would be lying if I said I didn't try to."

"And why would you say that?" she gasped.

"Because..." Link removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "I wanted to escape. I needed to at least try to distance myself from—"

"From what?" Zelda urged, growing restless.

"My memories..." the young Hylian burst out. "In hopes of finding—I don't know—some sort of peace of mind."

"Link, that's quite possibly the most foolish thing I've ever heard you say." Zelda examined Link sadly. "The only thing that doesn't change with Time is memories."

"I know that now..." He sighed.

"Memories are woven into the very fabric of ourselves," the princess lectured. "They give us wisdom and strength. Even the ones which haunt us are meant to be learned from, are meant to help us grow."

The young hero did not seem to find comfort in her words. Zelda paused to collect her thoughts and decorum, her gaze never wavering from Link's wandering eyes, before proceeding carefully.

"Link, listen." She inched closer to the young Hylian and spoke gently. "My life has not belonged to me since the day we turned back time. Every morning I am woken by maids and dressed by my ladies. My day is already planned for me. I am followed everywhere I go by nurses, butlers, and courtiers— Inside I grow restless. I feel vulnerable, sometimes tortured, even. But then I think of my father, the Hylian way of life, the peace and tranquility this land has been so blessed with. That peace is the product of our trials, our sacrifices, and today we live with the consequences of the decisions we made so long ago..."

Link rose to his feet and began to pace across the grass. "It's not that I'm not at peace with the decision we made, because I am. It's more..." He paused again, struggling to find the words to define his conflict.

"More what?" The princess pushed further. "Link, I cannot help you if you do not open up to me. Please, just start with one simple question. Why did you leave?"

The young hero chuckled sarcastically. "A simple question?"

"Just think about that one thing and forget everything else. Why did you leave?" Zelda repeated slowly, punctuating each word.

"I left because—" He swallowed before saying slowly, "because a part of me hoped I could still piece together a fraction of the life I lived before the Great Deku Tree ever summoned me."

Zelda silently reflected on his words. She knew how he felt. Life since the Imprisoning War had been anything but easy. To have seen such darkness, such tragedy, and then for no one to remember any of it, made her suffering seem like a cruel joke, a bad dream. It was the reason she and her father never saw eye to eye.

"But you must have realized that you could never go back," she finally said. "Not exactly, at least."

Link huffed. "Because I was no longer the ignorant boy who left the forest. By becoming the Hero of Time I built myself into a warrior, a killer, even, and I was growing restless. That's why I left here to find Navi. It wasn't so much that I was looking for her, per se. I just felt I needed to be looking— for something..."

"Hmm," Zelda nodded, considering the young hero's words. "Then you were led into Termina..."

"Yes, and suddenly I felt whole again." He cracked his gloved knuckles and continued to pace. "There were people to save, wrongs to right, evils to vanquish. Then, like my previous adventures, it ended perhaps before I was ready to accept that it was all over."

"So you came back to Hyrule..."

Link nodded. "And I returned the Ocarina to you and waited— waited for something to happen, a new quest, an adventure, something to go wrong..."

"And when nothing did..." Zelda sensed a breakthrough and prodded.

"When nothing did, ahh!" Link groaned. Zelda watched silently as frustration and guilt erupted within the young hero. "I had this revelation," he continued. "I-I realized my only identity was as the Hero of Time... but you can't live a life as a hero without endless suffering to counter. Who could wish for that?"

"But then, why did you pull away?" Zelda asked sadly. "Did you not feel you could confide in me?"

"At the time I made my decision," he stated honestly, "I was trying to remove everything from my life that reminded me of the Hero of Time. I retreated to the forest because it was the only place in all of Hyrule I once knew absolute comfort and safety— where I lived before everything started. I prayed that perhaps by returning there, Time might absolve me."

"There is no peace in isolation, Link," Zelda reached out. "Loneliness molds hearts of stone."

"I know..." He sighed and stopped in his tracks before the princess. "In fact, I've known that for quite a while now, but the longer I stayed in the forest, the more a second problem arose."

"And what was that?" Zelda asked softly, brow raised

"The guilt I felt for leaving you." The corners of his lips turned up into a sheepish smile. He gazed directly at Zelda for the first time since he arrived. Hints of pain and remorse, mixed with love and determination, shone through.

"I see," Zelda whispered. A slight breeze circulated through the chamber. The silence visibly cooled his restless temper. Without any further commentary, Link picked up his hat and returned to his spot in the grass.

"I'm sorry for all your troubles," Zelda confessed, holding Link's gaze. A look of sorrow and understanding crossed her face. "I've prayed to the goddesses every day for your safety and comfort. It seems, however, that the river of time has been rather rough for the both of us lately." She paused and considered her words. "I must ask, though... what brought you back?"

"A number of things, actually..."

"Kindly pray, then, let me hear them." Zelda titled her head and leaned in closer. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly. Or at least, I don't have enough information yet." He paused and straightened his posture. "That's why I've come."

"You need answers," the princess whispered, "which you believe I can provide."

"If I may be so bold?"

She was touched, humbled even, that the the Hero of Time would come to her for help. Her kingdom owed its freedom to this young man. No reward, save the whole Triforce itself, could satisfy her eternal debt to him. "Please, Link. I would be honored to help you in any way that I can."

He smiled weakly and reached into a small leather pouch at his waist. He pulled out a silky green parcel, which he held out before the princess and slowly unfolded the corners to reveal a golden token. "Well, I inherited this medallion, and I was hoping... maybe you could help me discover where it came from."

Zelda pursed her lips and eyed the trinket. "May I?" She extended her open palm. Link nodded and slid the medallion into her hand. The princess turned it over a few times, held it up to the light, and traced the symbols.

"Well, on one side is the royal family crest, which you already know, but this arrangement on the other side— it must be a coat of arms of some sort. Link, where did you get this?"

"It belonged to my mother, actually."

"Your mother..." Zelda gasped. More memories flooded back to her. She recalled how the bitter truth of his origins revealed to him by the Great Deku Tree's sprout left the young Hylian feeling betrayed and confused.

"Well, Link," she continued, "it would be my most esteemed pleasure to help you. I'm sure there is something in the library that can help us trace the origins of this token." She stood and brushed herself off. "We can go now if you..."

"Your Highness," a stuttering voice reverberated through the stone tunnel leading into the courtyard. "The Ten'al-tarians have arrived."

Zelda's moment of happiness shattered. She spun around and drew face to face with her father's secretary. "Thank you, Barnabus. One moment, please." Zelda rolled her eyes and turned back to Link. "I'm so sorry," she sighed wearily, and pressed the medallion back into Link's gloved hand. "I have this meeting I must take, but..." She stepped aside to address both the young hero and the jowly man adjusting his glasses. "Barnabus, please escort my friend, Link, here to Mistress Impa. Also, inform the household that another guest will be joining us for the feast tonight."

"Yes, Your Highness," he replied with his nose in the air, clearly appalled by Link's weathered appearance and unconventional choice of garb.

"Link, I insist you join my father and I for dinner," Zelda urged. "There will be dozens of people and all of the attention will be on the visiting ambassadors, so you should not feel pressure."

She expected the young Hylian, who grew up in the forest away from formal obligations, to at least half-heartedly resist. However, Link instead bowed his head slightly and replied, "You can count on me, princess."

An unchecked smile illuminated her face. "The moment I break free, we will make a run for the library. On the goddess Nayru, I promise."

"Ehem..." Barnabus coughed, "the Ten'al-tarians, Your Highness."

"Right." She winked at Link before setting off at a swift pace toward the throne room. Her heart raced, but her mind felt completely numb. How could she possibly keep a straight face for anyone, much less a visiting prince?

 _At least, now I truly have something to look forward to..._ Her elated spirit carried her through the vaulted halls of the castle despite the few dark hours that lay ahead.

* * *

What a meltdown. Like a cooling volcano, his head still buzzed from the pent-up frustration that had just erupted, though a part of him couldn't help but feel relieved. The Re-dead was off his back. His guilt had been vocalized.

She seemed to dance like a cloud gliding across the blue skies of Hyrule Field. Link's eyes remained glued to the tunnel even after she vanished. Zelda, the Crown Princess of Hyrule— the connection they shared was one of the only shards of evidence left in the world proving their memories were more than simple illusions. Yet, all things considered, he barely knew her. After all, it was not the princess who travelled and fought alongside him, but a young Sheikah warrior, an alter-ego of the Zelda the rest of Hyrule looked to as their heir to the throne.

But by the way she addressed him, spoke to him, and questioned him... it felt as though she could read his every inner thought.

Was it sadness he felt, or nostalgia? Anger and guilt had been replaced by something hollow, though Link's heart continued to pound wildly in his chest, his hands clammy and slick inside their leather gauntlets. Only another cough from the short man in puffy pants— Barnabus, as Zelda called him— broke his concentration and wrenched him back into the moment.

"If you will follow me, sir," the short grizzled man instructed, "I will lead you to Her Highness' drawing room, where you will wait for Mistress Impa."

"I'm fine just waiting here, thanks." Link shrugged.

Barnabus squinted his beady eyes. "In a garden?"

"I like gardens."

"Hmm, As you wish." Barnabus clicked his heels and marched from the courtyard, nose pointed toward the heavens and puffy white pants in his wake.

Alone in the bed of flowers, Link's eyes traced the flow of the reflection pool around the circular contours of the courtyard. It was in this chamber that he learned of the Triforce and the Ocarina of Time. Here with Zelda, plans had been laid to collect the Spiritual Stones, enter the Sacred Realm, and thwart the ambitions of the Gerudo King. So many decisions, memories that shaped him, happened here...

A raised marble patio opposite the entryway caught Link's attention. He envisioned a much smaller Zelda, bending over the windowsill to spy on the King of Thieves as he entered the throne room— _the throne room!_

The young Hylian bent low as he approached the window. In his youth, the ledge perched suitably at eye-level, but he now had to crouch on his knees to avoid being seen. Holding on with two hands for balance, he peeked over the windowsill, and scanned the room beyond.

A golden throne dominated the right wall, towering up to the ceiling. The King of Hyrule was slumped deep into its red velvet cushions, head in his hands. A thud from the left side of the room caused the monarch to flinch. Zelda swept into the hall, pulling white satin gloves up to her elbows.

The king rose slowly from his throne and marched forward to greet his daughter. He pulled a long blade of grass from Zelda's hair, threw it on the floor, and scolded her as a horde of young, fluttery women encircled the princess, brushing her off, tugging her hair, and straightening out her skirts.

"I should've warned her," Link muttered to himself, remembering his dreams. A pang of guilt twisted inside him for surrendering to his own personal odyssey before pushing the real, alarming issue. He wanted to jump up and down, to give her some kind of sign, a warning to at least be cautious.

Just then, the Triforce symbol began to glow on the back of Link's left hand. Keeping low, he looked toward the princess who— to the young Hylian's astonishment— met his gaze with a discreet smile.

_Triforce of Wisdom... perhaps she already knew._

Trumpets sounded. The young women hovering around the princess scattered. A row of knights lining the far side of the wall clanked their heels together and stood tall as two young boys raised a pair of red, yellow, and blue banners. The grand doors swung open and flooded light into the vaulted chamber. Two men entered the hall, followed by a unit of black-armored knights, each equipped with a sleek black ax. The procession marched down the center of the room to greet Zelda and the king with low, drawn-out bows.

Link's attention shifted between the princess and the figure standing before her— a lean, pale man with greasy dark hair and a long black cape, just like the man from Link's dreams. The man to his right was shorter, more wrinkled, and more muscular, but with the same dark hair and pale skin. He wore black armor like the knights behind him— only his was decorated with jewels and ribbons. A tall silver crown graced his head. _He must be the czar that Bertie mentioned last night..._ Link shifted from side to side. His bones ached with the urge to draw his sword.

As the two monarchs exchanged words, Zelda and the man before her remained quiet and still. Finally, the czar reached out and shook the king's hand. The man from Link's nightmares bent to his knee and kissed the back of Zelda's outstretched glove. A knot tightened in Link's throat. He felt hot. His emotions teetered between anger and concern, like he was watching his dream play out in real time.

As the royal quartet exited the throne room, the greasy, caped man arm-in-arm with the princess, Link fought the urge to pound his fists against the glass window pane. Instead, the young Hylian sunk backward onto the stone patio and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Hello, young Hero."

A deep, melodious voice caught Link by surprise. He wheeled around on the ground and drew eye level with the knees of a woman plated in armor.

"Impa." Link looked up and smiled. An unmistakable gleam of respect shone through her crimson eyes. The woman with steel-colored hair extended a firm hand and offered the young Hylian a boost from the ground.

"Spying again, are we?" she noted. "I see you haven't changed."

"I wasn't spying," Link protested.

Impa raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.

"I-I was merely observing the proceedings. Everyone in town was talking..." Link was cut short by Impa's continued stern gaze. She was not buying excuses. "I'm just worried about the princess, is all," he admitted. "Those guys—those Ten'al-tarians—are definitely up to no good. Everyone in town knows it, I know it, and I have a pretty good track record when it comes to sensing danger."

"Townsfolk talk," she said in a low, smooth voice. "That's their duty."

"It's not just gossip, Impa..." Link paused and sighed, looking down from the Sheikah's red eyes. "I've been having dreams—nightmares actually—about that very man and the princess..."

"I see..." Impa nodded. She tapped her knuckles against her folded forearms, deep in thought. As Zelda's caretaker, Link knew that Impa had experience in dealing with prophetic dreams. She was, after all, the only person who heeded Zelda's warning about the King of Evil. "What role does the princess play in your dreams?" she finally asked.

"Umm..." Link shifted from side to side. "Well, she marries the man who was with the czar."

"Zel-Taren."

"Sure." He shrugged.

"He's the Czar-Aran's son," Impa revealed, "the Ten'al-tarian prince. Though from everything I've heard, he is not the one to worry about."

"The czar?" Link wondered.

"Yes..." Impa nodded, her voice trailing off.

"Great, so now there's two people I have to worry about on top of everything else." Link racked his brain, trying to remember whether or not the man in black, decorated armor had ever been a presence in his nightmares. He could only assume the reason for the man's absence was hardly a good one.

"Well, does anything happen in the dreams, something odd or extraordinary?" Impa pushed further.

"No!" Link threw his hands up. "That's the frustrating thing. Nobody seems scared or worried, just... stoic. It's all very surreal, but there's no mistaking the feeling I get watching him at the altar with her..."

"And that feeling would be?"

"Anger, I guess," Link murmured, "protectiveness... It's the feeling that if I could just stay in the dream a second longer, I know he would do, well... something!"

Impa considered Link's explanation. "And these dreams have been reoccurring, correct?"

"For about a month now," he answered.

"Hmmm..." The Sheikah woman pondered— arms folded and head bowed— before she suddenly switched gears. "Well, young hero, the best we can do right now is to keep our eyes and ears always on the lookout for anything suspicious, and thank the goddesses for sending us this warning."

The Sheikah's words, while valid, did little to comfort Link. He turned back to face the window. The hall was now clear, and Zelda was alone with the prince.

"For now, you must come with me." Impa caught sight of Link's anxious gaze. "It is my understand the princess invited you to the ambassador's banquet tonight."

"Yeah?"

"We must get you looking respectable, then."

"Oh, no!" Link backed away. "I agreed to attend strictly as a means to keep an eye on the princess."

"And in order to keep that watchful eye, you must not draw attention to yourself. I'm afraid Hylian noblemen would be rather put off by a young man showing up in traditional Kokiri garb."

Link sighed. He knew he was going to regret this. Dinner with a bunch of haughty Hylian nobles. What was he thinking? Nevertheless, Impa had a point. He wanted to be a fly on the wall, a mere observer, keeping watch over Zelda while possibly finding out more about this Ten'al-tarian prince.

"OK," Link rolled his eyes. "But no puffy pants, no feathers, no ruffles, no lace, and nothing— absolutely nothing— that shimmers or shines."

"We'll see what we can do." Impa smiled, turning her back on the young Hylian.

"No, I really wasn't kidding..." Link called and chased after the Sheikah woman.

Though Link loathed the thought of making small talk over nonsense with a bunch of strangers, a part of him ironically wished to fast-forward time till the evening. At least then nothing would be uncertain, nothing left to chance. If something did happen, he would be there. He would be able to see her again... to know she was safe.


	4. Chapter 4

Zelda gathered the ends of her skirts and scurried down the hall. Her ladies had dawdled and fussed so long over every detail of her evening's wardrobe that she was running late to greet her father for the banquet. Chemises shuffling and ribbons twirling, Zelda could hardly maintain her balance, let alone a brisk pace. The princess rounded the corner toward the Great Hall and narrowly avoided bowling over a set of armor. "Ahh..." Zelda huffed, regaining her composure.

She spotted her father at the end of the entrance hall. A soft glow leaked into the dim passageway from the room beyond and illuminated the king's profile. Zelda drew up alongside him and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Sweetheart," the king groaned quietly, "why must you always run late?"

"I am not quite late, father," the princess protested between deep breaths. "Besides, it was Veronica this time. She spent an hour on my hair, and have you seen this dress?" She stood straight and gestured toward the gold-laced bodice of her gown. "This takes time."

The old king shook his head and abandoned the subject, but Zelda could tell by the way his eyes shifted that there was something else bothering him.

"So Barnabus tells me you invited a young lad to stay for dinner," he finally exhaled.

"Whom I invite to dinner is none of Barnabus' concern." Her tone was stern. That old loon of a secretary would find it necessary to report her private affairs to the king.

"We had an agreement, Zelda," her father continued. "While the dignitaries are here—"

"We had an agreement that I would allow Zel-Taren to be my escort. Extending a dinner invitation to an old friend in no way violates that. Besides, I had hoped you might be more concerned with what happened to Mercy Middleton than with meddling in my affairs."

"Absalom is looking into Miss Middleton. I just—"

"Father," she placed her hand on his broad shoulder and smiled weakly, "he's just a friend. Please, try to let it go. "

"I only bring these matters up because I care..."

"I know." Zelda nodded. The tenor tones of a trombone filled the chamber, silencing the drone of chatter and laughter from the Great Hall.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you..." the king whispered. He clasped hands with Zelda and turned to face the entryway.

"Tell me what?"

"How beautiful you look tonight, darling." The old monarch leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"Please, rise!" A man announced from beyond the wall. "Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Zelda and His Majesty King Auberon II."

The doors eased open into the sparkling hall. Zelda squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bright light. A quartet of minstrels strummed a lively tune to accompany the chorus of warm applause. Zelda and the king advanced down the center of the room toward the Great Table sitting high on a dais, overlooking the longer tables flanking it. Czar-Aran and Zel-Taren awaited them at the place of honor.

"The household has outdone itself this time," Zelda muttered through her teeth as she smiled and waved.

"Indeed it has," the king similarly responded.

A golden arm-chair was drawn up to the Great Table for the king, and a canopy of blue and gold silk hung down from the ceiling. Carved candlesticks lined the tables, casting a shimmering glow off the coverings and silver place settings. An ornate glass salt cellar highlighted the colorful spread, which included large basins of soup, loaves of bread, grapes, fish, pork, and many vases of wine.

Still holding Zelda's hand, the king took up his arm-chair, while the princess took the seat between her father and Zel-Taren. With a smile the monarch lowered his daughter's palm, raised the ruby-studded goblet at his place setting, and tapped it with his ring.

"Welcome, my friends!" His voice reverberated off the walls. "We gather on this most joyous evening to honor our guests, our friends, His Majesty Czar-Aran and His Royal Highness Zel-Taren of Ten'al-taria."

His introduction was met with another round of applause, though this one more subdued and forced.

"Such a warm greeting," Zel-Taren leaned over and whispered in Zelda's ear. She smiled weakly and nodded, though her concentration was already turned onto the long tables— two each lining the right and left walls.

"I would also like to welcome our guests from across the four provinces who have come to celebrate with us this proud converging of lands: Lord Beckett the Baron of Kenton and Lord Spencer the Baron of Remington. On behalf of the Duke and Duchess of Faron, I present Vincent and Sir Dryden de Vaux; for the Gerudo, the Mir Fasiris; for the Zora, Master Riverkeepers Kaveri and Fisk; and Gor-Feor for the Gorons."

Each representative rose and bowed as the king called out his or her name. Zelda joined the applause, though her eyes continued to comb the rows of proudly-dressed and powdered nobles for one particular face.

"With introductions aside," the king continued, "I wish to call upon young Master Murdoc for the honor of the first glass."

Rory Murdac, a lanky teen, rose from his seat at the left side of the hall and strode toward the Great Table. As the royal cupbearer, it was his duty to take the ceremonial first drink to assure no one had tampered with the wine. Chest puffed out, he bowed low before the king and accepted the monarch's goblet. He dipped the glass in the nearest vase, raised it high above his head, and tilted it back for a long, full gulp. The hall applauded as he passed the goblet back to the king.

"Thank you, young Master Murdac." The king accepted the glass, placed it back onto the table, opened his arms wide and proclaimed, "With that, my guests, let the feast begin!"

Meguil Murdac, the Master of the Household and Rory's father, rose and began to command servants around the main floor. The minstrels filled the hall with the vibrant melody of lutes, pipes, organettos, and flutes. Zelda continued to scan the audience for her guest of honor...

Then she spotted him— at the far end of a table nearest her. She hardly recognized him without his hat, though his blue eyes pierced through the hustle and bustle of the servers clamoring about, and sent a tingling shiver down her spine the moment they connected. Her heart began to pound wildly against her chest as she noticed a wide grin break out on his face. He nodded as though to acknowledge whatever divine presence connected them, and for a brief moment the rest of the hall disappeared, pulling the two of them closer together...

But then the young Hylian blinked. His concentration shattered. Something distracted him, or rather, someone...

* * *

It had been a long, emotional, and frustrating day, but Link had finally come to the last hurdle. By the time he arrived in the Great Hall with Impa, most of the place settings were occupied, and a small cluster of musicians were polishing and testing their instruments. He sheepishly tugged at the ends of the leather vest he had been instructed to wear.

"Now, remember subtlety." Impa turned to him. "If you don't give the nobles a reason to address you, they probably won't. You're an outsider to them. Just focus on the princess."

"I know," Link sighed.

"I must leave you here, but look for me as soon as the banquet is through."

"Wait, you're not sitting with me?"

"I have a designated position I must occupy near the princess, and unfortunately, the seats around me are reserved for high ranking members of the court and household."

"Yeah, yeah, everything comes down to rank here. I get it."

"You will be fine, young hero." A rare smile cracked through Impa's rough exterior. "Just look at it as another challenge." She turned to take up her seat, leaving the young Hylian to fend for himself.

"Triforce of Courage..." he muttered beneath his breath. "Goddesses, please lend me the strength I need to fit into a place I don't belong."

A squat man in a feathered cap stood before the large, arched doors and sounded a tenor trombone. Lords, ladies, servants, and entertainers scrambled into their places and turned toward the entryway near Link's end of the hall. He took notice and copied their motions.

"Please rise," the short man called out. "Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Zelda and His Majesty King Auberon II!" Music filled the hall and the doors eased open. What Link saw next made the young Hylian's jaw drop. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, all those years ago, he knew she was beautiful. During their adventures he learned that she was also powerful, courageous, and wise. But never had he seen her so... royal.

Like a goddess herself, her golden hair and gown illuminated the room. She glided arm-in-arm with the king, smiling and waving. Her blue eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed. Noblemen and women applauded as she passed; some even bowed their heads out of respect. Link just stood, knees locked, frozen to his spot.

The princess and the king made their way toward a table at the end of the hall, set high above the rest. Czar-Aran and Zel-Taren waited for them, and for the first time Link got a good look at their faces— both bony and pale. Link's focus zeroed in on the princes' gray eyes—they were locked onto the princess with pride.

Zelda and the king finally took up their seats, and the monarch began the proceedings by introducing a long list of visitors. Link stared absentmindedly at Zelda and Zel-Taren. A familiar sense of urgency made his fingers twitch and the hair on the back of his neck prickle. The walls of the hall felt like they were pressing down on him.

After the introductions, the king summoned a youth who looked no older than Link. The boy took a sip of wine, to which everyone applauded, and the monarch finally called for the feast to begin. A dozen men in feathered caps and pouffy pants circulated the room, filling bowls with a soup and glasses with wine. Link's focus returned to the big table at the front of the room, and most importantly, back to the princess.

He watched as her eyes wandered across the hall, floating over every face, and tracing the movements of the servers until her gaze paused on Link. Their eyes locked. Link smiled. Through their connection alone, it felt like she was speaking to him in secret. The world continued circulating around them, but only the thoughts and memories that connected them mattered...

"A wonderful table, is it not?" A high, feminine voice cut through the noise of the hall. He blinked and turned to face the source of the disturbance.

"Y-Yeah, I guess." His eyes rested on the face of a young woman with brown hair and green eyes. "I mean, I don't have much to compare it to?"

"Your first time at court, I presume?"

"You couldn't tell?" He shrugged.

"Oh my, I've forgotten my manners." She giggled and held out a white gloved hand. "Veronica de Caulmont, daughter of Absalom de Caulmont, Groom of the Stool."

"I'm Link." He shook her outstretched glove. "It's nice to meet you Miss de Caulmont."

"Silly, you're supposed to kiss the back of a lady's glove."

"Uhh, I..." Link stuttered. Five minutes into the meal and he had already messed up. His eyes shifted to the bowl of soup in front of him and again over to the big table where Zelda was deep in conversation with the prince.

"You're cute, Link, very... innocent." Veronica giggled again. "Where are you from?"

"Faron Provence." Link fed her the same half-truth he told Bertie the night before, hoping to fend off more questions.

"Oh really? I've always wanted to visit the southern country. Do you by any chance know Vincent and Dryden De Vaux? The sons of the Duke and Duchess of Faron?"

"No, I live in, near the forest... I live close to the forest." Link shook his head. She made him feel very uncomfortable.

"Interesting. So are you a rancher then? Does your family own a farm?"

"No, I... travel a lot."

"I've always dreamed of traveling across Hyrule— Death Mountain, Zora's Domain... My father takes me on holiday to Lake Hylia from time to time, but I know there's so much more to see." Words tumbled from Veronica's mouth unfiltered. Link wondered if she even had time to breathe between sentences. "Well," she continued to press, "what's your family name then? Perhaps I've heard of it?"

"Ahh..." Link paused. He couldn't tell her that he had no family name. That would only lead to further questioning. Link racked his brain quickly to come up with a convincing lie. "Umm, Mido." It was the first name that popped into his mind. "Link Mido."

"Link Mido," she repeated. "That's a... peculiar name."

"Sure, I guess." The young Hylian held his breath, hoping she would drop the subject.

"So, how long have you been a guest of the castle, Link?"

"Since this morning." He exhaled and leaned back in his seat.

"Did you hear about what happened in the library, then?"

The young Hylian squinted and shook his head. "No..."

"Well, my cousin's page told me that Rory Murdac told him that Mercy Middleton was found unconscious on the library floor, and that her sister Amery was the one that discovered her. I would confirm it with the twins if I could, but Mercy is still being monitored by Doctor Goodleve and Amery hasn't left her sister's side since. But I also hear that Mercy lost over three days of her memory."

"Wait, a girl was found unconscious in the library?" Link was stunned. He couldn't believe that he hadn't heard of this before, and that the castle would keep such serious information under lock and key.

"I know," Veronica chuckled. "What could anyone possibly want from there that's worth causing such a fuss over?"

"Information..." Link knew all too well the consequences of knowledge falling into the wrong hands.

"But the books are there for everyone. It seems like a silly thing to cause harm for."

"Obviously whoever attacked the girl didn't want anyone to know what they were looking for." Link's eyes shifted back and forth in thought, "And this girl, Mercy, knew too much."

"I wonder who could have done such a thing? It's too bad Mercy lost her memory."

"Yeah, I wonder..." Link's voice trailed off. He sighed and took a long sip of wine. Over his shoulder he again looked toward the princess, whose attention was now fully devoted to the Ten'al-tarian prince. He had to think of some way to separate them. Not now, but soon. He had to figure out some way to whisk the princess away; after all, the nightmares could not come true if Zelda never left Link's side.

* * *

_Why was it always Veronica?_

Jealousy burned in the princess' heart as Link's attention turned away from the Great Table, and Zelda. Here she, a princess, sat at the Great Table between the King of Hyrule and a crown prince, but given the choice, she would trade places with her lady as fast as Farore's Wind could take her there.

"Is something the matter?"

The question broke Zelda's furious glare toward the end of the hall. "N-Nothing, Zel-Taren. I was just admiring the scenery."

"Please, Your Highness," his voice was low and smooth, "just call me Taren."

Zelda grinned slightly at the ambassador's charm. She hated herself for admitting this, but of all the suitors who had come to court her over the years, Taren was perhaps the most interesting. He was a master archer, swordsman, and proficient in a Ten'al-tarian art of war called Vibha-matar. Earlier they had taken a tour of the grounds, where the prince showed particular interest in the horses. "The finest creatures he had ever seen," Taren called them. After Zelda had suggested that one of the best views of Death Mountain could be had by climbing a tree at the edge of the yard, he obliged her by racing to the top.

"Very well, Taren," the princess responded, "but then I insist you address me as Zelda."

"As you wish, Zelda." He bowed his head.

"Much better." She could not help but blush. He was quite handsome, with long, dark hair and icy blue eyes. He had a fearsome build, much taller than the average Hylian, with a sharp jaw-line and facial features.

A young server bowed as he filled Zelda and Taren's glasses and bowls. The royal pair raised their goblets and clinked them together.

"To our alliance," Taren toasted.

"To a bright future," Zelda added and tipped her glass back.

"Mmm, the wine is exquisite," Taren remarked as he set his goblet down.

"We pride ourselves on our vineyards, especially in the southern country. Crops grow wonderfully in the rich soil there."

"I regret the same cannot be said of Ten'al-taria," the young prince sighed. "Our terrain is quite rocky and mountainous, with very thin soil."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate..."

"You insinuated nothing," Taren cut her off. "You merely praised your country. You did not insult mine."

"I suppose." Zelda's gaze drifted back to the end of the hall, where Link was still in conversation with Veronica. He just had to show up on a day when she could not give him the attention he deserved. The situation was such a tease...

"So, Zelda," Taren cut into the silence, "care to introduce me to some of the ladies and gentlemen of the court?"

"I would be delighted." Zelda blinked, clearing out her wandering thoughts. She rested her spoon on the edge of her bowl and leaned closer to the prince. "You will notice the hall is divided into two sides— one for the king, the other for the queen, or the crown princess, in our case. The closer the seat to the Great Table, the higher the position is considered. Is there anyone in particular I can tell you about?"

"Hmm, how about the man sitting closest to the king? The rather large man with the long stole?"

Zelda craned her neck to get a better look at the man Taren pointed toward. "Oh, that's Faisal Aloysius, the High Priest." She gestured toward the three white-haired gentlemen sitting around him. "The four men closest to my father are the members of the House of Polis, a group of high-ranking officials that sit on the council."

"How about the man beside them— the thin one with reddish-brown hair?"

"And the gaudy medallion around his neck?" Zelda added venomously, though she knew who Taren was referring to. "That's Absalom de Caulmont, the Hand of the King, and my father's closest friend at court."

"And you two do not see eye to eye," said Taren pointedly.

Zelda's eyes narrowed. "Why would you say that?"

"Your tone Milady. You did not attempt to mask your disapproval."

"Yes... well, Absalom has not always honored my... _opinions,_ " Zelda replied before adding forcibly, "but I suppose he only has the best interests of the realm at heart."

"I see... " Taren's eyes lingered on Absalom a moment longer, and then shifted toward the other half of the hall. "And over here, who is the woman with the red eyes? She's been staring at us the whole time."

"That's Impa." Zelda smiled. "She's my caretaker and dearest friend. She's the leader of her village, Kakariko, but she lives here in the castle to fulfill the Sheikah oath to the royal family."

"A Sheikah, you say?"

Taren's tone insinuated something, so Zelda pressed further. "You are familiar?"

"Oh yes, my people descended from a powerful Sheikah lord."

"Oh?" His answer caught Zelda by surprise.

"The old Sheikah legend of Knowledge and Truth, you've never heard it?"

"No..." Zelda shook her head, lips pursed. She was certain that she knew all the stories and legends of the Sheikah. After all, she had lived as one for seven years. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, perhaps it is not the most important legend to Hylians." Taren shifted in his seat and took another sip of wine before beginning. "A brother and a sister traveled through all the kingdoms of the world, documenting their histories and cultures. After many years, they returned to Hyrule and the sister, satisfied by their work, began to pass on her teachings to the next generation. Her kin became the Sheikah. The brother's thirst, however, had not been quenched. He yearned for something beyond knowledge itself."

"And what lies beyond knowledge?" Zelda's brow furrowed in curiosity.

"Truth," Taren responded shrewdly. "He continued to travel in search of knowledge that would lead him to the discovery of absolute truth, and in his quest he became very powerful. Like all powerful men, followers flocked to him, aiding him, worshiping him even. But neither the monarchy nor his sister looked kindly upon his quest. She betrayed her brother one night, and his followers were ultimately banished from Hyrule. They fled into the mountains beyond the western desert— the mountains of Ten'al-taria."

"But why was he banished?"

"He wasn't banished. He was executed," the prince replied curtly. "Only his followers came to Ten'al-taria."

"But why..." the princess whispered and shook her head. She couldn't believe she'd never heard this story before.

"I hate to be rude, Zelda," Taren cut her off, "but this is hardly the proper setting for a story of this nature. We are a proud people, Your Highness. One which like to think of themselves as more than the descendants of a banished tribe."

"I understand, Taren," Zelda spoke softly. "Consider the subject dropped."

Pastries, grapes, fish and pork filled their plates in waves. Conversation waned, and the full, jubilant songs of the minstrels reverberated through the hall in their stead. After every course had been served and the wine began to run low, the king once again tapped his ring against his goblet and addressed the court.

"Let us all praise the Goddesses for the bountiful riches they have blessed our land with, and applaud the household for preparing such a magnificent feast. Now, I would like to once more call upon Master Murdoc to begin the entertainment portion of our evening."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." The Master of the Household rose from his seat and bowed. He licked his fingers, smoothed out the tips of his pencil-thin mustache, and cleared his throat. "I hope you have enjoyed the music this evening provided by the Sons of Abram, hailing from the Village of Euell. At this time, our entertainers would like to open up the dance floor to the court."

Zelda twitched in her seat. She wanted so badly to be the first to dance. However, it was considered improper for a royal to be so impetuous, and equally more improper for a princess to dance alone. Her gaze wandered from Taren, hoping he might oblige, to the open floor, where a few of her ladies had already accepted the minstrels' invitation.

"Is public dancing at court a common practice in Hyrule?" Taren asked, a tone of disapproval crept into his voice.

"Public dancing for all occasions is common in Hyrule. Why, do you not dance in Ten'al-taria?"

"We import dancers to keep us entertained."

"Ohh..." Zelda's heart sank. The practice seemed so cold.

The fluttering sound of the lyre and the song of the flute infused the hall with festive energy. Knights, courtiers, and members of the household twirled in circles of color. Candlelight shimmered off the jewels of ladies' dresses and the buckles of men's trousers. Zelda's feet bounced impatiently under the table to the beat.

She looked again toward Link, sitting bashfully alone at his place setting— only he was not alone for long. Miss de Caulmont once again swooped down on him. She twisted and turned like a gypsy on the dance floor. Her bright green eyes locked onto each man, making them weak in the knees. Veronica grasped Link's hand and pulled him playfully toward the dance floor.

The young hero resisted at first, shaking his head, content to remain sitting alone. But to Zelda's horror, he did not fight long. Veronica continued to prod, even pout, and Link, rather than put up with the act, gave in to the seductive wench.

Jealousy again roared like a maelstrom inside Zelda. She felt hot, weak...

"Taren!" She commanded, more brazenly than she intended. "Let's dance."

"Zelda, it's not really my..."

"There's a first time for everything." She kicked off her wooden heels, wrenched Taren's wine goblet from his hand, and pulled the prince from his seat. Arm-in-arm they descended the dais onto the floor. The lords and ladies already dancing paused and bowed to greet the royal couple.

* * *

She just grabbed him and pulled him into the fray. He tried to talk her down, but not only was Veronica de Caulmont the most chatty, bubbly Hylian woman he had ever met, she downright did not look kindly upon the word 'no'.

It wasn't even that he hated dancing. He had danced before; not lately, but the Kokiri loved to dance, usually around bonfires. As a child, he often joined the party bouncing around the flames, catching fireflies twinkling against the black forest canopy, but this was not one of those dances. Here there were expectations— certain steps to follow, ways to bow, to turn, and to hold a woman. Veronica molded his arms into their proper places, one at her waist, the other clasped in her hand, and led him in a skipping twirl around the floor.

"I love this song." She hummed with her eyes closed, head back, listening to the music. "It's so... vivacious."

"Yeah." Link concentrated on his feet, making sure he didn't step on her. At least Veronica knew what she was doing and had no problem guiding him like a lost puppy.

Halfway through the song, Zelda and Zel-Taren stepped down from the big table, arms intertwined, to join the floor. Everyone around them stopped to bow, so Link and Veronica followed suit. A hollow feeling ate away at the young Hylian's stomach, and it had nothing to do with the impending sense of danger he felt when in the presence of the young prince...

"Have you ever met Princess Zelda?" Veronica asked as the dancing resumed.

"I have," he replied. Link's eyes followed the princess around the floor. Such a simple question with such a complicated answer...

"And what did you think of her?" Veronica prodded, brow raised.

"I often try not to..." the words escaped him.

"Oh," Miss de Caulmont sighed and, for once, fell silent. Again she let the music wash over her.

It wasn't that Veronica was an intolerable girl. She was very beautiful, Link had no problem admitting. He just wasn't used to her sense of tact, or lack thereof. The more they spun around the hall, the music floating in the space around them, the more comfortable he became. Link slowly began to trust his movements like he did in battle, letting his subconscious take full control.

The young Hylian's eyes continued to follow Zelda around the room, trying to draw her attention, but his thoughts kept roaming back to his conversation with Veronica. It had to have been one of the Ten'al-tarians that attacked the girl in the library. But which one? What did they know? And most importantly, what were they after?

Eventually the song came to an end, and everyone on the dance floor paused to applaud the musicians for their work. "Another dance, Link?" Veronica asked. She held onto his hands tightly, but Link politely bowed and stepped back. He spotted Impa out of the corner of his eye and wished to report to her.

"I'll save another dance, Veronica." He slowly backed away. "But that Sheikah woman over there is an old friend of mine, and I would like to excuse myself for a moment to speak with her."

"Oh, that's no problem at all." She smiled and released her grip. "Old friends always come first."

Link bowed again, but just as he turned to walk away, something, or someone rather, collided into his shoulder.

"Watch it!" a voice sounded behind Link as he stumbled forward.

"Oh, s-sorry." Link spun around and caught the gaze of a man, with a brown ponytail and green surcoat, for a split second, before he disappeared into the sea of couples. Link's eyes lingered on the spot a moment longer— he sensed something familiar about the man...

"You don't seem to be harmed in any way."

Impa snuck up behind Link and broke his concentration. "Dare I say you're enjoying yourself, young hero?"

"Well, the food was really good..." Link smiled weakly and ran his fingers through his hair.

"The conversation as well?" she prodded.

"I wouldn't go that far," Link chuckled. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Veronica had already wrangled herself a new, unsuspecting partner. "So Miss de Caulmont was telling me about a girl found unconscious in the library..."

"Early this afternoon." Impa nodded.

"And why am I only hearing about this now?"

"I am still a bit behind on the details myself," the Sheikah admitted. "There were no signs of struggle at the scene, and unfortunately, the girl has no recollection of an encounter."

"Impa, we don't need evidence to know who it was," Link scoffed. Her seeming lack of concern for the situation shocked him.

"But we need evidence," she redirected him, "to do anything about it."

Link huffed and turned to face the floor. As visiting royalty, Zel-Taren and Czar-Aran were practically untouchable, and the young Hylian could not expect to sway anyone's opinion of them on the basis of dreams alone. He once again singled out Zelda, gliding like she danced on air, from the fray.

"Why don't you ask her for the next dance?" Impa asked, turning to face Link.

"Who, Veronica? If she wants to dance, I think she'll find me."

"You know who I meant." Impa flashed him a half-smile. There wasn't much that slipped past her.

"I don't know, Impa," Link sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I doubt she would be allowed to. Aren't there rules to follow?"

"You overestimate the judgment of Hylians after they've had enough to drink. Besides, and I raised the girl so I would know, she would be most honored for you to ask."

Link fell silent. Every muscle in his body lurched with the urge to march up to the Ten'al-tarian prince and shove him aside, but that would hardly sit well with the king's court. Instead, he stood beside Impa and listened to the music while he watched the prince like he was testing the movements of an unfamiliar enemy. Link studied his motions, his tendencies, in order to find his weakness so that when the song was over, he could strike...

* * *

The music flowed through her body like the blood in her veins, pumping life into her every breath. The princess' bare feet slid across the stone floor, making it easier to balance amongst the layers of chemises and skirts that tried to weigh her down.

It was a group dance. The women stood in a small circle facing their partners on the outer rim. Her spirit soared as she spun clockwise with the other ladies. The two lines converged and the partners reunited. She could have been dancing with Prince Alec of Selbee for all she cared, so long as he did not have lead feet. It just felt so good to move, to skip, to let her subconscious take control of her motions...

But her elation only lasted as long as the song, and with the end of the music, Taren came to a grinding halt. Zelda exhaled deeply. _Had she been holding her breath the whole number?_ She turned to face the prince and curtsied low with her head bowed, as customary.

"What say we return to the table, Milady?" Taren offered his arm and nodded back toward their place settings. Zelda halfheartedly accepted his hand. She glanced over her shoulder once more toward the minstrels discussing the next number and around the crowd of lords and ladies, looking for where...

"Link!" She gasped, stopping dead in her tracks.

"Your Highness?" He smiled and bowed, but never lowered his piercing gaze.

"Excuse me, sir," Taren interjected, "but the lady and I were about to rejoin the table."

"My apologies, Your Highness." Link strode closer to the royal pair. "I don't mean to intrude, but I was hoping Her Highness might like to dance some more?"

"Oh, would I!" Zelda responded all too eagerly. "I mean, I would be delighted, good sir." She curtsied again and blushed.

"You know this fellow?" Taren squinted at Zelda.

"I do," she replied smoothly. "He's an old friend."

"The oldest," Link chuckled and offered the princess his arm.

"I shall not be long, Taren." She reached out and accepted Link's glove. "I pray you return to the table, if that is what you wish." It was quite a comical sight. Taren, a foreign prince, the guest of honor, and nearly a full head taller than the young Hylian, was stricken speechless by Link's gesture. Zelda felt the prince's glare beating down her neck as Link pulled her toward the center of the floor.

It was another group dance, one where the couples lined up facing each other. Zelda instructed Link on where to stand. "Just keep your eyes on me and mirror what I do."

"I think I can manage." His smile made her feel lightheaded. The music started up again, a slower, more soulful tune than the last. Her heart pounded to the steady beat of a drum. The dance began as every other couple took a step toward the center, spun clockwise around each other, and strode into the opposite line.

"I see you were having quite a lovely time chatting up Miss de Caulmont," Zelda remarked pointedly as she and Link stepped together.

"Well, you didn't seem too put off by His Highness..."

"Taren's not all bad." Zelda baited him.

"Oh, so you're on a first name basis now?"

"He's a royal and so am I." She could not tell whether he was actually jealous or just goading her. His eyes locked onto her as they spun around each other. Her breath caught in her throat as the muscles in her shoulders tensed.

"Apparently, there was a girl found unconscious in the library today," Link pressed as he reached for Zelda's hand.

"According to Miss de Caulmont, I presume."

"She may have a big mouth," Link mocked, "but she doesn't strike me as a liar."

Zelda stepped to her left around the man beside her, but her gaze stayed locked onto the young hero's furrowed brow. "I know that look, Link. You believe there's more to this..."

"Her memory was wiped," he replied curtly. "It sounds like magic was involved. "

"Taren was with me all day, if that's what you are insinuating."

"Not Taren..." He shook his head.

"The Czar," Zelda finished his thought.

Every time they stepped together, hands locked, eyes searching each others', a warm tingle coursed up her spine. The lines paused, and one by one, each couple came together. Link's right arm wrapped around her waist and drew her in, their chests inches apart.

"I have to go to the library," He gently confessed. "I have to take a look for myself."

"Later," Her fingers wrapped through his, locking in place like a piece to a puzzle. "I'll meet you." Pressed together, they skipped down the aisle created by the two lines and out to form a large circle of dancing couples.

"Watch the man beside us, Link," She whispered in his ear, "and follow what he does."

On cue his hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her effortlessly into the air. He always was quick to react. "Wonderful," she replied softly and closed her eyes, surrendering herself completely to his trust. She felt nervous but excited nonetheless. The world spun around her. Her feet did not touch the ground. Time stopped and the music faded. The only thing solid connecting Zelda with reality was the steady pounding of Link's heart against hers, the feeling of his chin resting on her head, and his fingers wrapped through hers...

" _Zelda..._ " his voice called her name in the distance like a song. _Say it again..._ her subconscious begged.

"Zelda, the music stopped."

She blinked and stood suddenly still in her tracks. The other lords and ladies had cleared the dance floor and formed a circle around them. How long had they been watching?

She turned from Link standing frozen to his spot, back to the audience surrounding them, waiting and watching. "Link," she nudged the young hero's side and muttered between her teeth, "bow." He flinched and did as he was told. She hurriedly turned to him and curtsied. The audience finally broke out into applause and she exhaled.

The princess smiled and waved. Link followed suit, then offered his arm to Zelda and led her from the floor. The minstrels began a new song, and those remaining on the floor resumed dancing as though nothing strange had happened. Zelda's eyes, however, wandered up to the Great Table where her father sunk deep into his armchair, head in his hands, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for letting herself get carried away...


	5. Chapter 5

_"The only way..."_

_His vision was black. The words echoed through the back of his mind._

_"It's the only way..."_

_He felt his fingers first, then his toes. A high, feminine voice whispered again, "The only way..." though he could not determine the direction it echoed from._

_The floor shook furiously beneath his feet, and finally, he opened his eyes. Rows of spectators stood unfazed, facing forward. Link hovered, beside a stone altar, next to a figure who towered a full head taller than he, clothed from head to toe in black— Zel-Taren. The princess, face veiled, glided down the hall toward them._

_"Zelda!" Link ran down the stone steps to greet her at the foot of the altar. "Zelda!" he called again, but she did not notice him._

_The princess drew up alongside Zel-Taren, leaving Link gaping at the base of the steps. The prince pulled Zelda close and flipped back the black silk covering her face. She pulled away and shot him a cold glare of contempt._

_"You will not get away with this," Zelda spat._

_"Your kingdom is already mine, princess," Zel-Taren hissed and leaned toward her. "There's nothing left for me to get away with..."_

_A flash of red in the rafters caught Link's attention. He wheeled around just in time to lock eyes with a hooded figure. His face was completely concealed, except for one large, red eye that shined like it was made of glass. He leered and twisted a glowing jewel between his fingers. The unblinking glass eye mercilessly seared through Link, making his blood run cold._

_"You, you!" he screamed... Zelda!_

"Zelda!"

"What? Link, wake up!"

"Zelda?" Link gasped and shot out of bed from beneath a thin sheet, sweating. He blindly stumbled back and forth at the foot of the bed, rubbing his hands through his hair, as his heart beat slowly returned to normal.

"Link, what's the matter?" the princess asked calmly. "What was all that you were screaming about?"

"You heard that?" He sighed with his back turned to her.

"I just hope the guards didn't as well." She shuffled around the cramped, circular bedchamber toward a small window and pushed the glass pane forward. A cool breeze circulated through the room.

"Sorry." Link shrugged. It was a clear, cool night. A half-moon shined in the sky, highlighting the silhouette of Death Mountain in the distance. "So, what are you doing here anyway?"

"Oh no, I'm not letting you off that easily..." Zelda pressed. "You were obviously having a nightmare?"

"A recurring nightmare." Link hung his head and leaned over the windowsill. He owed her the truth— the truth he should have told her yesterday morning.

"About me?"

"About... a great many things." He paused and turned to her. "Including you."

Zelda picked up a towel from a nearby stool and gently dabbed it over Link's sweaty neck. Her touch was soft, like a fairy's wings. "Start from the beginning," she whispered.

Link exhaled deeply, blowing his bangs from his eyes. "I wake," he began carefully, "in the Temple of Time. There's a wedding going on—your wedding. That's always the same— the crowd, the location, you, and him..."

"Him?" She prodded.

"I didn't know until I came here, tonight, but now I'm certain. I know it's Zel-Taren. I'm sure of it."

"Zel-Taren is what, Link?"

"He's the groom. You marry Zel-Taren in my dream."

Zelda tried to maintain her calm and collected exterior, but Link could tell by the way she dropped her gaze and straightened her shoulders that she was moved. "Surely that isn't all..."

"Well, that's been the majority of the dreams. But tonight, there was more— a man, standing on a ledge in the shadows. He had a red jewel in his hand..."

"Could you identify him?"

"I... I seemed to recognize him in the dream." Link squeezed his eyes shut and tried to form a mental picture. "He had this one eye that looked like it was made of glass. It shined red— as red as the jewel that he twisted between his fingers."

The princess furrowed her brow and dropped the towel onto the stool. "What do you feel in these dreams?"

"Like I'm there," Link answered hastily. "I can feel the eyes of all the spectators beating down my neck— the stone rumbling beneath my feet as lightning strikes the towers. Ahh..." He groaned and turned his back on the window. "I know I should have told you about these dreams earlier. But I think a part of me wanted to wait for some of the elements to become more clear before I troubled you..."

"Link, that's silly," she snapped. "Premonitions happen to be my specialty."

"Well, I needed to prove to myself that these nightmares were more than just dreams before I started running around crying prophecy."

"Oh, I see what you are insinuating," Zelda scoffed, hands on her hips.

"Wait, what?"

"You believe that's what I've done all these years? Claimed my dreams are prophetic without the evidence to back up my claims?"

"Did I say that?"

"You implied it."

"Well, I didn't mean it like that," Link mumbled. "Anyway, you're a princess. Everything you say merits some legitimacy, doesn't it? I, on the other hand, am just— me, just a person. I can't expect people to believe my theories without proof."

"Link, that's ridiculous. You and I both know you are not just a person."

"And any evidence I have to prove _that_ is locked away in the Temple of Time. Without justification, men like your father are not going to give a damn what I have to say."

"Who cares about what my father thinks? I love him, sure, but this is the man who trusted Ganondorf!" Her toned shifted from exasperation to seriousness. "I believe in you, and Impa believes in you. If Saria and the other sages believe in you, who else do you need?"

Link clenched his jaw and mulled over Zelda's words. As always, she had a point. Her help and the sages had been enough support in the past, but that was also after the kingdom had been devastated and the people teetered on the edge of desperation. This time, he hoped to curb the threat before it pushed Hyrule to the brink of defeat.

"I guess you're right," he said, his shoulders slumping.

"Don't mention it." Zelda smiled.

Their eyes connected. Link blushed as he really observed her for the first time that evening. She was wearing a pretty blue nightgown, and her hair fell loosely to her shoulders. He liked her like this— laid back and relaxed. It just seemed so much more... _Zelda._

"S-so," he broke the silence, "I'm guessing you didn't sneak down here to give me a pep talk. Now will you tell me what brings a princess to this part of the castle in the middle of the night?"

"I promised to take you to the library, didn't I?"

"The library? Now?"

"It's as good a time as any." She shrugged. "Besides, I told you yesterday morning that we would go the second I broke away. I'm free now, so..."

"I wasn't getting any sleep anyway," Link chuckled. He grabbed his white undershirt and slipped it over his head before digging around the bottom of his satchel for the medallion.

A thick candle flickered on the bedside table. Zelda picked it up, then passed another to Link. "Then follow me." She winked, inched the bedroom door open cautiously, and peeked around the corner into the hall.

Link craned his neck to look in the same direction. "So what's the plan now?"

"Shh!" Zelda wheeled around and pressed her finger to Link's lips. "I don't want the guards to catch us!"

"Why not? This is your castle."

"The last thing I need is to trouble my father with knowledge that I was sneaking around with you in the middle of the night."

"Is there something wrong with me?" Link laughed, but the princess was clearly not amused.

"Can we save the chatter for when we get to the library?"

"Anything you say, Your Highness."

Zelda opened her mouth to react but held her tongue, rolled her eyes, and turned back to the hall.

The castle was different at night. The unlit corridors seemed endless, and the eyes of the portraits seemed to follow their path. Link concentrated on walking silently behind Zelda as they wove their way through the dark halls— left, right, down a flight of stairs, right, left, up stairs. Link had no idea where they were within the castle, and it was too dark to memorize the path by landmarks. He had a feeling, however, that Zelda was leading him along a detour. They squeezed through a narrow stone archway, through a tapestry, and resurfaced behind a bookcase in a large, carpeted corridor that glowed silver in the moonlight.

At the end of the hall was a set of dark, carved double doors. Zelda checked once more over her shoulder, to make sure they were not being watched, before slipping through the entryway and pulling Link along with her.

"Excellent, we made it." She sounded relieved.

"Shouldn't we worry about the guards finding us in here?" Link wondered aloud as he watched Zelda pressing her hands to the door and muttering something incoherent beneath her breath.

"They won't be able to hear us. I soundproofed the doors. The guards will not come looking in here without a reason."

"Wouldn't want them to actually patrol the whole castle now, would we? Might be too difficult for them?"

This time Zelda laughed out loud at Link's sarcasm. It was a melodic little laugh, a nice laugh, sort of like a flute.

"So," Link walked deeper into the room. "Where do we start?"

The library, like the rest of the castle, was dark. Thin steams of moonlight beamed in through narrow windows high above them. Zelda glided from corner to corner, lighting candelabras so they could see more clearly. Link's gaze shot upward to the columns of books towering high along the walls toward the vaulted ceiling.

"Well, I was thinking," the princess stated in her familiar tone of authority, "if you hand me the medallion, I'll see what I can pull from the archives. In the meantime, you can search the library for anything suspicious that might help us identify Mercy Middleton's attacker."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Link handed the princess the bundle of green silk he clutched in his palm. "What do you think you can find in here that will help?"

"Well, if I'm correct, and the symbol on the front face is indeed a family crest, I should easily be able to match it with a surname. We keep excellent records of heraldry and lineage here at the castle."

"I'll just pretend like I know what that means." Link smiled, watching Zelda trace her fingers over the medallion, before hurrying off toward one of the tallest bookshelves.

A large marble fireplace against the right wall of the library caught Link's eye. It was flanked by two stone statues of tall thin women with glassy eyes. A third statue, sister to the others, rested on the mantelpiece beneath a large portrait of a man and woman. Link immediately recognized the man, with his square jaw and broad shoulders, as a younger version of the king. The woman beside him was slender, fair-skinned, and blonde.

Fascinated, Link walked toward the fireplace, his eyes fastened onto the woman's purple ones. She had the same figure, the same hair color, the same shaped eyes as the princess.

"That was my mother." The young Hylian wheeled around as Zelda called from across the library floor. "Lady Cordelia Alcwyn Addinell was her name, before she married my father. Then she became Queen Cordelia Hyrule." Zelda was scaling a ladder to reach some books on the top shelf, not turning back to look at Link and the portrait.

"S-she's pretty," was all Link could bring himself to say.

"She was... Unfortunately, I never had the pleasure of knowing her."

Link scanned the mantle, the floor before it, and the paneling for anything that seemed out of place— It was clean. "Do you ever..." he thought carefully about his words, "I don't know... feel sorry or sad you didn't know her?"

Zelda dropped a stack of heavy, leather-bound books onto the table, kicking up a thick puff of dust into the air. "Sometimes, I suppose, especially when I was young and would catch my father down here, staring into that portrait with such sadness in his heart. But sometimes it's actually nice..."

Link turned his attention to the stacks of un-shelved books piled ten high on the desks. "What do you mean?"

"I have this perfect memory, this creation of what she was like that I can cling to for warmth and strength. Because I never knew her, my mother is whatever I want her to be..."

Link nodded, and read the titles off the covers of several volumes. _'One Hundred Ways to Rid Your Home of Skulltulas,' 'Recent Revelations in the Art of Potion Making,' 'The Hungry Goron'_... He continued to scan the library, stealing occasional glances over his shoulder at the princess— brow scrunched, eyes scanning intensely the yellowing pages and black ink.

"Link!" she called after a few minutes. "I think I found something."

Link hastily made his way back across the black library floor. He inched close to the table to get a good look at the pages Zelda was referencing. The parchment was separated by two columns— one with pictures, the other with words that Link guessed described the pictures. "So what's the bad news?" He asked.

"Why would you assume the news is bad?"

"Because the news is always bad, so let me hear it."

Zelda playfully rolled her eyes. "Well, I decided to first look through a symbology encyclopedia to see what the figures stand for. Every Hylian family has a crest, so it would take until morning to look through every one ever logged."

"And..." Link pressed.

"And the dog stands for courage; the crane for loyalty, or a mother's love." He could tell by the way she squinted and shook her head that there was something more—something she was trying to find the right words to describe.

"And..." Link urged again.

"Well, it's this symbol in the shield that's very curious— the crescent moon. It's a sign for being awarded by the sovereign." She spun the book around to face Link and pointed at a picture halfway down the page. The medallion sparkled in the candlelight beside it.

"This here," she gestured toward a small engraving on the golden token, "is a double crescent, which means the owner of the medallion must have come from the line of a duke."

"A duke?" The word was unfamiliar to Link.

"Someone appointed by the king to govern a province. But..." Zelda's voice trailed off. "The family must no longer be in power, because the other symbols don't match up with any current duke or duchess' crest."

"OK," Link nodded but still was not following. "So what does that mean exactly?"

"It means the family line ended."

"Line ended?"

"Died out..."

"Hmm..." Link's head bobbed. The news did not shock him. After all, he knew nothing about his mother, let alone her family. It was not inconceivable she had been all that was left.

"Link..." Zelda said uneasily. "How long did you live in the forest under the protection of the Great Deku Tree?"

The young Hylian pursed his lips and thought. "I'm not sure exactly... The Kokiri don't really have a reason to keep track of time. The seasons come and go, but it's all cyclical."

"But your mother... she died running from something?"

"From the fires of war," Link quoted the Great Deku Tree Sprout.

"A war?" Zelda paused. "That's interesting."

"Why?"

"Sorry, it's just... she must have died during the Civil War. It's the only major conflict besides the Imprisoning War to ravage Hyrule in over five hundred years."

All of this talk of Hyrule's history made Link feel like he was stumbling blindly through an endless dark tunnel. "And why's that interesting?" Link finally pressed. "People die in wars all the time."

"The Civil War ended over twenty-five years ago," Zelda replied succinctly.

"So..."

"So if you were born around then, you are quite a bit older than you look."

Link considered this for a moment, but he hated dealing with numbers. Zelda's theory did not surprise the young Hylian. He never counted how many seasons changed in his Kokiri days, which were the only marks that time passed at all in the forest. The late Great Deku Tree used powerful binding magic to keep him young, Link knew, and as such, assumed he lived in the forest longer than his physical age suggested.

"I guess that's nothing," he shrugged, "compared to having your body sealed away in the Chamber of Sages while evil ravages the world around you, only to wake up seven years later."

Zelda half-laughed. There was a twinge of sadness in her eyes, or guilt perhaps. She flipped her hair off her shoulder. "I supposed that's true. I've grown up twice. You've grown up once only to become the man you already knew you were."

"It's like you said yesterday... what is Time to us?"

"Indeed..."

Silence permeated the room. Zelda slid out another battered old book. Her fingertips trailed along the lines of words. "Let me look through this next volume. There may be hundreds of Hylian family crests, but only a handful belonged to the line of a duke."

Link nodded and turned away from Zelda to resume his mission. This time he maneuvered his way carefully toward the back of the library. He took one of the candles with him and held it up to the dark shelves, scanning the rows and rows of books. He was obviously in one of the less frequented corners of the library. The volumes were covered in dust. He swore something even moved inside one when he poked it.

Link sighed after he reached the end of the row without a lead, and was just about to turn back to the fireplace when, finally, something caught his eye. The dust in front of one particularly thick book had been wiped clean. He slowly slid the volume off the shelf. It, too, was not dusty. The cover was so worn it felt like it would crumble in his hand. It was old enough to be written in ancient Hylian, which he could not decipher well.

"Here it is, Link!"

The young Hylian almost dropped the old book he had just started to flip through when Zelda's excited proclamation met his ears. Link took the book and crossed the room back to where the princess anxiously waited him. Her eyes lit up when she looked at him, so he was cautiously optimistic she had discovered something... well, pleasant, at least.

"The Adalmund family," Zelda declared, holding the medallion out beside the book. A perfect replica of the crest on the token was copied onto the page. "The crest matches that of the Adalmund family, who governed the Faron Provence for almost one hundred years."

"Adalmund?" Link repeated slowly as if uttering something too holy and precious to say aloud.

"And hold on one moment..." She flipped the parchment. Her fingers rapidly scanned the page. "Here!" She tilted the book toward Link and pointed at a group of names near the bottom. "There were two children in the family, both girls— Lydia and Raleigh, so one of them could have been your mother!"

Zelda breathed heavily beside him. She was obviously excited by the news. Link, on the other hand, was not quite sure how he felt— happy that light was being shed on the mystery of his past, sad that they were all dead, or indifferent because a name did not change the fact that they were gone.

"Link, don't you see, this is perfect!" Zelda declared triumphantly.

"What's perfect?"

"We can use this information to find out exactly who your mother was, and perhaps more!"

"How?" Link eyed the princess quizzically. "It's like you said, they died out."

"The current Duke and Duchess of Faron are Gustaf and Evelyn de Vaux. I've known them my whole life. Gustaf fought in the Civil War along with my father. They must have been around the same age as your mother during that time; therefore, they must know something about the Adalmunds!"

"So what are you suggesting, exactly?"

"You have to go talk to them. See what they know. You are curious to know more, Link, do not pretend otherwise."

Of course he wanted to know more. Mysteries were meant to be solved, but he absolutely didn't like the prospect of returning to Faron Provence and leaving Zelda alone with Zel-Taren. "I do want to go. More than anything, I want to know the truth... but I won't," he declared.

"What do you mean?" Zelda's expression instantly shifted from delight to confusion. "Link, you can't. I want you to go; I want you to know about your family. It's your right!"

Link pondered this for a moment, but his mind was made up. The past was the past. It was set and would not change, but the future was still in the balance. He would not leave if it meant abandoning the princess. He could not risk it. "I'll go," he began slowly, "on one condition... and that's you must come with me."

"What?"

"You must come with me." Link repeated, his tone stern.

"Link, I can't." Zelda's mouth hung open. "You know I can't."

"Can't or won't? You always have a choice, Zel."

* * *

Choices— what did Link know about choices? He never had any royal duties tying him down or family obligations to live up to. As far as Zelda could see, she only ever faced two choices— to fulfill her duties or to shun them. This case was no different.

"Both," she replied curtly. "I can't because it is my duty to remain here. I won't because I made a promise to my father."

"Then I'm not going." The calmness in his voice irritated her. "I will not leave you here alone, Zelda. I have a duty to fulfill as well, and that is to Hyrule and to you. I will put a stop to my nightmares, and if that means I have to wait to find out more about the medallion, then so be it."

"Link," the strength in her voice faltered. "Don't do this..."

"Your mind is made up, and so is mine."

Zelda nodded silently, avoiding Link's stern gaze. She wanted so badly to help him. He had done so much for her, sacrificed so much— it was just not fair. If her father only knew about the things Link had done for her, for Hyrule...

Zelda's eyes wandered across the desk, the books, and the medallion before she noticed a curious old volume in Link's hand. "Did you find something, Link?"

His expression. "Oh, this book." He passed it to her. The cover was green, with golden symbols traced into the tough, wrinkling hide. "I pulled it from a shelf in the back. Everything was covered in dust except this, but it's written in ancient Hylian..."

" _Collections de Mudora_ is the title." She set the book down gingerly on the table and examined the front cover. "It seems it was written by two people— a woman named Vidya and a man named Sachdev. Judging by the symbols on the cover, I would say she was probably Sheikah. Wait..."

When she opened the cover, it fell immediately open to a spot in the middle, where a chunk of pages had been ripped from the spine.

"Okay..." Link observed, "so someone either didn't want to take notes, or has something to hide."

"We don't know when the pages were torn out, Link, but yes, it is strange. Especially since..."

"Since what?"

"Well at dinner, Taren was telling me about an ancient Sheikah legend. A brother and sister who traveled the world documenting the stories, myths, and beliefs of different cultures." She paused and flipped through a few more pages skimming over topics such as _'Gerudo Creation Myths,' 'The Seven Essential Elements and Their Sages,'_ and _'The Temple of Time and Hylian Prayer,'_ "Link, this could be it. This could be the document!"

"What document?"

"The book Taren talked about. The one the brother and sister of legend scribed!"

"It sure seems old enough." Link pursed his lips and eyed the book curiously. "But how does a Ten'al-tarian know a legend of the Sheikah that you don't? You lived as one."

"I'm not quite sure myself." Zelda shrugged. "I haven't had the chance to ask Impa about it, but I'm sure it's connected to what else Taren told me of the story. The brother apparently amassed considerable power and a dangerous following. His disciples were banished to Ten'al-taria after he was executed."

"And you've never heard this story before?"

"No..."

Again the conversation was suffocated. She flipped through the book some more. Every legend of the Sheikah she had ever known, and more, was there in writing... this too was odd, however, because the Sheikah were known for passing stories along orally.

So many unanswered questions swirled around inside Zelda that she felt dizzy. Who could have torn the pages out? Was it recent? Did Mercy Middleton know they tore them out, and was that why her memory was wiped? And most importantly, what was on those missing pages?

Then there was the matter of Link's medallion... _another_ mystery! Though one that they actually had a lead on.

"How long," she spoke carefully, "did it take you to get to Castle Town from the Kokiri Forest?"

"Sunrise to sunset, a half day's journey. Why do you ask?"

"I'm not quite committing," she said slowly, "just thinking aloud. If we traveled by horseback— it's more direct than warping to the Lost Woods— and if we left now, we could arrive by mid-morning and meet with the Duke and Duchess. Barring any setbacks, I could use the Ocarina of Time to warp back to the Temple of Time and return safely to the castle by dinner. You can then follow with the horses."

"But what about the time between..."

"Link." She held up her hand as if to stop his words physically. "We'll only be separated for a few hours. You are just going to have to trust me that I can handle myself for one evening."

"But what about the things you said earlier— about your father and your promises?"

"Forget about that, Link." She waved him down. "I want to help you more than anything."

"Why?"

"Because you would have done the same for me." Her smile stretched from cheek to cheek. Link's gaze met hers, and his blue eyes sparkled with gratitude and hope.

"It's a deal." He grinned. "But I do have one more question... how are we going to get out of the castle?"

"I will inform Impa that we are leaving. That way, she can tell my father in the morning. In the meantime, you can get dressed, grab your things, and let's plan on meeting in an hour outside Castle Town gate."

"Sounds like a plan." Link nodded, then grabbed the medallion and book from the table. Zelda put out all the candles except the ones in their hands, plunging the library once more into mostly darkness. She was just about to open the door before Link's hand pressed against the dark wood, blocking her.

"Wait, I have one more thing." His half-smile was illuminated only by the candle's glow.

"Yes, Link?"

"Thank you... for your help."

 _He_ was thanking _her_! "Link, after all you've done for me, I hardly deserve your thanks."

The young Hylian fell silent and removed his hand from the door. The princess led Link back along the secret passage to the guest chamber where his effects were stored. It was only a second story room, so he planned on slipping out the window onto the grounds. The princess, in the meantime, snuck back to her bedchamber. She quickly changed into a pair of hosen for horseback riding and a simple blue cotton dress. It was one of the few unadorned 'commoner' outfits she owned.

After a quick visit with Impa ("I trust you know what you are doing, child."), Zelda dashed back through the castle passages, into the underground, and out onto the moonlit grounds. She moved quickly to keep her mind focused on her mission and not on her father. Still hoping to avoid a run-in with the guards— as the king did not need to know she had left until the last possible second— she crept silently to the stables and gingerly unhitched Adda.

The white mare whinnied at the sight of Zelda, who pulled the hood of her midnight blue cloak down further over her face. "Wow, girl. Behave yourself. You're finally going to get the ride you've wanted for a while now." She stroked Adda's neck as she saddled her up. The mare seemed to sense her master's desire to remain hidden, for Zelda had never seen a horse stand so still, so silent, for so long.

Zelda worked swiftly hitching up Adda, and soon she was leading the horse back into the catacombs beneath the castle. Few people even knew of the old passages' connection to the castle, but Zelda discovered the path when she was very young, and often in her youth used it to sneak out of the castle and explore the city.

Adda whinnied uncomfortably in the darkness. Zelda held on tightly to the reins with one hand and felt along the damp, moldy wall with the other. Occasionally, a faint splash or squeak would disturb Adda, and Zelda would have to pause to stroke her and calm her down. After a few minutes of blind stumbling, however, a faint light drew closer and closer in the distance. Her shoes and the hems of her skirts were soaked, but Zelda breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she resurfaced into the night air along the eastern wall of town.

The streets were completely deserted, as it was probably encroaching on three or four in the morning. Even with only a few hours' rest, however, Zelda was not tired. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, making her almost over eager.

She maneuvered her way toward the southernmost edge of town, around a few blocks, and past the stables. The drawbridge was in sight, and there was Link— perched high on the back of Epona, waiting for her in the green grass past the gate. Beyond him stretched Hyrule Field. The night sky, dotted with stars, rolled out across the horizon, and with a slight nudge to beckon Adda forward, the princess was charging forward to meet it.

The white mare shot past the drawbridge, past Link, as fast as her four hooves could carry her into the night air. Zelda did not hold back. Quickly she glanced over her shoulder, and there, galloping right behind Adda, was Link on Epona. He never once asked to slow down, never asked for a break. He could keep up...


	6. Chapter 6

"This is it, Link. This is the house!" Zelda called. Her eyes felt heavy from lack of sleep, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins helped her stay awake and alert. "I've been here with my father before. And look," the princess pointed toward an engraving on the pine door, "those markings are similar to the ones on your medallion."

Ordon was a small town on the outskirts of the Lost Woods. Thatched houses lined the dirt streets where farmers ushered sheep along and Cuccos roamed, pecking at seeds. Zelda and Link rounded on the doorstep of a two-story house, the largest in the village. A small watering hole sparkled in the late morning sun beyond it. Vapors rose from its surface and mixed with the thick, humid air. Sweat dripped down the back of Zelda's neck, and the summer sun beat down on her shoulders as she and Link tethered their horses to a tree near the water's stagnant edge.

"Are you ready, Link?" she inquired. The young Hylian nodded in response, clutching his satchel as if making sure the medallion was still there.

Zelda turned to the front door and knocked twice. A woman on the other side yelled something. Her voice grew louder and louder until the door swung open. An older woman with a braided bun of gray-speckled chestnut hair stood across the threshold smiling back at them. Dark creases lined the creamy flesh beneath her almond eyes and traced the lines of the years around her thin lips. Her smile, however, bore no signs of age, and her voice was hearty and smooth.

"Relax, hun!" she called over her shoulder. "It isn't Lloyd again!"

"Well who is it?" a grizzled voice yelled back, but the woman ignored him.

"Don't be discouraged by him, loves." She flashed an inviting smile. "How may I help you?"

"Good-day, Lady Evelyn." Zelda bowed her head respectfully. Link stood back, allowing the princess to take control of introductions. "I apologize in advance for the sudden nature of my visit. I would have sent word if it were not a matter of some urgency."

"No harm, child. I pray you continue..."

"I know it has been quite a while since our last meeting. I am Princess Zelda, and this is my friend—"

"Well, of course you are!" Lady Evelyn reached out and drew Zelda into a gentle embrace. "I haven't seen you since you were about yea high," she gestured to her waist. "My, my, how gorgeous you are. The spitting image of your mother. Oh, silly me, you must come inside at once." The duchess stepped to the side and ushered Zelda and Link into the foyer. A large seal with the same markings as the carving on the door hung on the wall beside an green tapestry. A forest green and gold rug lined the wooden floor of the entryway.

"Gustaf, we have visitors!" Lady Evelyn announced.

"What?"

"Visitors, dear. Meet us in the parlor." The duchess escorted Zelda and Link into a comfortable open room with a large window that overlooked the watering hole. A long dining table stretched out beneath it. Lady Evelyn led them over toward a stone fireplace surrounded by a host of squashy armchairs, and bade them to take a seat.

"Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?"

"I'm fine." Link mumbled.

"A coffee would be wonderful. Thank you, milady."

"Two coffees please, Drella," Lady Evelyn turned to a maid hustling into the parlor, "and bring some water for the boy, if you will. I can't imagine what is holding Gustaf, but his knees have been bothering him lately... and his back."

"Oh, it is no problem at all," Zelda muttered through a forced smile. She checked the position of the sun nervously out the window, but it had not reached its peak. They still had time.

"Gustaf and I just can't manage the journey to Castle Town as often as we once could," Lady Evelyn continued. "With the children now grown and the two of us getting along in years, most of our business takes place just around the border region."

Drella returned with the coffee, water, and a basket of biscuits. Lord Gustaf de Vaux hobbled around the corner into the hall, leaning heavily on a crooked wooden cane. He had long silvery hair, a square jaw, and a thick scar on his left cheek. The way his eyes and shoulders slumped reminded the princess very much of her father.

Zelda rose and bowed as the duke approached. She subtly kicked Link in the heel to do the same.

"Princess Zelda, my Lord." She shook hands with the weathered old knight.

"Really? Good Lord." His thick, silver eyebrows arched with wonder. "I don't believe we were expecting..."

"You were not," Zelda hastily assured the duke. "My visit comes as a surprise, though I do sincerely apologize."

"No need to, Your Highness," Lord Gustaf replied and bowed his head. "It's our pleasure to assist the crown. Any news from Castle Town?"

"Actually, the nature of my visit pertains not to the happenings at the castle, but rather my friend here." She gestured toward Link, who looked from the duke, to the duchess, and back to Zelda with wide eyes. "I was hoping you two may be able to shed some light on a little mystery for him."

The duke raised his eyebrows but bowed his head slowly, bidding the princess to continue.

"My friend Link inherited this medallion, and we believe the two of you may be able to help us figure out where it came from." Upon these words, Link withdrew the green silk bundle from his satchel and unfolded it on the table before the duke and duchess.

Lord Gustaf first took the trinket, held it an inch away from his eye, and flipped it over twice in his hand. "Must be a family heirloom of sorts, belonging to a family of some stature." He passed it to the duchess, whose eyes grew wide the moment the golden trinket touched her fingertips.

"Oh my!" Lady Evelyn gasped. "I couldn't mistake this ornament even if I tried. The women of the court used to wear them as a broach. Each of us had one engraved with our family crest on one side, the symbol of the royal family on the other. It was meant to signify our kin's high standing amongst Hylian nobility."

"We traced the markings back to the family crest of the Adalmund family," Zelda interjected, "who governed the Faron Provence before the Civil War."

The duchess' smile vanished. Her eyes dropped again to the medallion. Link scooted forward onto the edge of his seat. He cracked his knuckles in his lap. The princess gently wove her bare fingers between his leather-covered ones.

"Adalmund, oh dear..." the duchess sighed. Zelda noticed the unmistakable mark of tears welling in Lady Evelyn's eyes.

"Milady," the princess pressed cautiously, "I know this trinket must dredge up some buried memories, but we must know, if you have any clue, whom this medallion may have belonged to..."

"I do not see how... She died over twenty years ago."

"Please, Lady Evelyn," Zelda urged the duchess. "It is a matter of great importance."

"Lady Lydia," the duchess whispered. Her fingers traced the golden contours of the medallion's sleek surface. "Her maiden name was Adalmund... This must have belonged to her. How it managed to crawl up from the depths of history, I haven't the slightest clue, but as to whom this belonged— my memories are as clear as if they happened last week."

"Can you tell me more?" Link spoke up abruptly for the first time since they entered the house. His eyes shifted hastily between Zelda and the duchess. "About her... about the owner of the medallion."

"Again, I don't see why it matters to the two of you—" but Lady Evelyn cut herself off and sighed. Zelda was fixing her with an unwavering stare. "Her parents were Lord Theode Edsel Adalmund and Lady Heloise Edith, the former Duke and Duchess of Faron. Lydia was absolutely born to be royalty. At age thirteen she became one of the youngest ladies ever invited to sit on the Queen's court. She was stunningly gorgeous, intelligent, and a dear friend."

"Did she have a child?" Link again added quickly, "Ever..."

"Oh yes, a small son born a few years into the war. And because Caedmon was an Officer of the Crown, the poor dear was left to raise the child practically on her own."

Zelda clenched Link's palm tightly. She could sense the excitement brewing within him.

"Who was Caedmon?" Link said quickly. "If you don't mind telling, Milady?"

"My, you are a curious lad." The duchess sighed again and closed her eyes. "Sir Caedmon Allith Aelstan was a skilled swordsman. I believe his father was a blacksmith in Kenton. Is that right, Gustaf?"

The duke grunted a stern "Yes."

"Anyway, he loved Lydia more than life itself. He spent years vying for her attention, but since he came from such a poor family, and Lydia was a young lady of society—"

"He made himself look like a fool a few times too," Lord Gustaf scoffed. His gaze was locked onto one of the sweating, untouched glasses of water on the table.

"Oh, but it was all in good fun," the duchess chuckled. "He competed in that one tournament too, remember, Gustaf? Just so Lydia might notice him."

Lord Gustaf chuckled. "Ha, the Autumn Carnival Tournament. Gods be praised he didn't get himself killed that day."

"There was that one man, remember honey, in the joust? I swear he must have been half Goron."

"Mohtar was the bloke's name." The trace of a soft smile flashed across the duke's rough face. He seemed to be finding his voice. "Well, Caedmon of course drew him in the second round of the competition, but he was just too sly for the troll..."

Zelda watched Link closely. His throat tightened at every mention of the name Caedmon or Lydia, and his gaze darted between the duke and duchess, trying to take everything in. The conversation petered out into silence, and the four sat awkwardly, each consumed by his or her own thoughts.

Link and Zelda had found the name, or names, they set out for, but the princess still did not feel satisfied. Zelda could read from their expressions, the way sorrow tainted their tones and the way their eyes glazed over with tears at the mention of their old friends' names, that the duke and duchess had not yet painted the whole picture.

"I apologize in advance to the nature of my question," Zelda broke the silence, "but if you do not mind me asking, what happened to them, Lydia and Caedmon?"

The duke and duchess exchanged awkward glances, seeming to decide silently between themselves who would offer an answer.

"It was the night of the attack on Hyrule Castle— at the end of the Civil War," Lady Evelyn began carefully. "Nobody knows how the rebels were able to so easily infiltrate our defenses, but it must have been a powerful bit of sorcery."

"Caedmon and I were pulling back from the front lines," Gustaf picked up the story, "when I noticed a group of thieves, led by that Ten'al-tarian lord, making off with the princess and her court."

Lady Evelyn shivered at the duke's words as he continued.

"Caedmon and I pursued them into the Temple of Time. Only the Gods know what they wanted from there. Our men surrounded them, and the Ten'al-tarians didn't stand a chance. Caedmon took the princess, Lydia, and the baby with him, and that was it. Lydia made off for Ordon with the baby on her own and was never seen again."

"And Caedmon," Link's voice sounded scratchy, "he sacrificed himself defending the princess?"

"Oh, no..." It was Lady Evelyn who spoke again. "Caedmon survived, in a manner of speaking."

"What?"

The princess felt Link twitch beside her on the edge of his seat. She voiced what she knew the young Hylian was thinking. "Lady Evelyn, what do you mean by 'in a manner of speaking'?"

"Well, he lost everything that night. Both his mother and father had passed by the time poor Caedmon was knighted. Lydia was his world... Her and that baby boy meant everything to him."

"He spent years searching for them," Lord Gustaf croaked, "combing the outer rim of the Lost Woods, scanning Death Mountain, Zora's Domain, even Gerudo Valley, turning every village in Hyrule upside down holding out hope they may have escaped and be waiting for him somewhere. He almost died in the forest one night after a nasty run-in with a pack of Wolfos. I think that might have been it for him, the moment he lost all hope."

"He used to come and visit us here when the children were young," said Evelyn sadly. "We so desperately wanted him to stay. Caedmon and Gustaf were like brothers, and Lydia was my best friend, but it seemed that Caedmon could have nothing to do with anything that reminded him of her. This very house once belonged to the Adalmunds."

"So," Link swallowed hard and pressed, "do you know what happened to him, after you last saw him?"

"For a while, I know, he was living on the outskirts of the forest, over on the western edge near Lake Hylia," the Duchess answered.

"Possibly hoping death would find him," grunted the duke.

"Alas, it has been so long since we have had any communication with him. He may have left Hyrule altogether."

"It's more than likely he's dead by now."

"But neither of you are certain, he could still be—" Zelda prodded, but the duke cut her off.

"I apologize if I come across as insensitive, Your Highness, but even if Caedmon was still out there, he would not wish to be bothered. He would be an old man much like myself, and nothing either of you have to say would make him want to relive the painful memories he ran from. My advice to you two, with all due respect, is to drop whatever it is you're looking for and let the dead lay. It was a tragic thing that happened to Caedmon, tragic the fate that befell his family, and tragic the grief that consumed and blinded my best friend. He's as good as dead to the world that has long left behind those dark days."

"It is a terrible thing to feel so lost..." sighed the duchess, but Zelda could tell that their words had no effect on Link. The princess fixed her gaze upon the young Hylian's face, hoping he would return it, hoping she might be able to read his emotions better, but Link only looked toward the duke. He extended his palm for the medallion and the duchess dropped it back onto the green silk.

"If you will excuse me." he stated sternly, and rose.

"Link..." Zelda began, but quickly retracted her rebuttal and allowed the young Hylian to exit silently into the hall. She turned instead to the duke and duchess. Both appeared slightly taken aback. "It has been a long morning, milady."

"I did not mean to disappoint the lad."

"You did nothing, Lady Evelyn," the princess assured, "Link is just not a man of many words."

"How did you say he came by that medallion?"

"Inheritance." Zelda stated flatly. "Link has no family left. I think he was hoping the medallion might lead him somewhere."

* * *

"What do you mean she's gone?" A low bark-like yell reverberated off the walls. Taren did not turn around. He knew that yell all too well. Instead he sank into his armchair and buried his nose further into the book in his hands.

"I went to call this morning," Taren stated carefully. The book in front of his face muffled his voice. "And that Sheikah woman told me she left. Father, I didn't know."

"You stupid boy. I gave you one task, one, and that was to not let the princess out of your sight!" Taren heard a thud followed by a loud crash. His father had kicked something in his fury.

"She's just a silly girl, after all." Taren finally slapped the book down. "I don't see why you are so threatened by her—"

"Again, your ignorance astounds me," the czar spat, rounding on his son. "Our entire operation depends on her!"

"I didn't know she left," the young prince shrugged. "How could I? She must have run off in the night with that kid."

"What kid?" The czar's eyes narrowed on his son.

"That kid from the banquet. Some commoner, no doubt."

"So you're telling me," Aran muttered through clenched teeth, "that the princess is running off with some commoner while you're sitting in here twiddling your thumbs!"

"I... I'm not..." Taren stuttered. His father towered over him, arms folded across his chest, waiting for an explanation. When Taren couldn't come up with one, the czar continued.

"Her father may be as thick as a Goron, but the princess is not. Only she has the power, the foresight, to overthrow everything!" The czar's words grew stronger at the end of every sentence.

"Well, attacking that girl in the library could have overthrown everything as well!" Taren shouted, finding his voice. "The whole operation could have been blown then!"

"Do not question my judgment, son. She was a silly court girl who knew too much for her own good!" His father dropped his arms to his side and walked out onto the circular balcony outside of the guest suite.

"Besides," he stated slowly and grasped the stone railing with his black gloved hands, "She will prove useful to our operation after all. She possesses the _necessary qualities_ we're looking for to carry out the ritual."

"Hmm..." Taren rose from his seat, extracted a handful of yellowing parchment from a locked box on the oak armoire, and flipped through them. "What were you after anyway?" He tutted as he scanned the headlines. "The plan is set, is it not?"

Aran wheeled around and fixed his son with a look of deepest disgust. Taren instantly regretted asking this question.

"Proper prior planning," the czar sneered, "means anticipating all possibilities."

"But father, this is all information we already know," the young prince deflected scanning the documents, "why..."

"Idiot boy, think!" Aran roared, crossing the spacious bedchamber floor. "We cannot have this information lying around in library books for anyone to read. Proper prior planning!"

The czar ripped the ancient scraps of parchment from Taren's hands and threw them into the fire. Within seconds the dry, yellow sheets disintegrated into gray bits of ash.

Taren felt a large lump swell in his throat. He clenched his jaw and fixed his father with a serious, unwavering gaze.

"Fortunately," the czar continued, "your little lapse amounted to nothing more than a minor mistake. See, I actually questioned the Sheikah, I actually dug a little deeper, and pressed for information— the princess is expected to return in time for dinner tonight, and I must insist that while we are here you NEVER LET HER OUT OF YOUR SIGHT AGAIN!"

"Sir." Taren nodded stiffly. His father adjusted the large silver crown atop his head before rounding on his son.

"And if that commoner gets in the way again, you take care of him. Do you understand me?" His father punctuated each word. Taren clenched his jaw and bit his tongue, as he always did when his father ranted.

"Hyrule's age of prosperity will come to an end," the czar growled. "I will bring to Ten'al-taria what my late father never could. No silly princess, meddling commoner, or bumbling son of mine will mess that up!" Aran raised his arm threateningly over his son's head, but Taren took the message, slunk quickly from his father's range, and hurried from the room.

The corridor beyond his bedchamber was filled with sunlight, a much different atmosphere from the cloudy, cold, gray skies of Ten'al-taria. But there was a reason for that, Taren reminded himself, a reason Hyrule prospered at the expense of its neighboring kingdoms. The prince clenched his fists as his thoughts turned once again to Zelda.

"Oh, this princess is such a pain," he thought bitterly. She was beautiful, intelligent— nothing like the women of Ten'al-taria— and not a washed up old fool like her father. With that Sheikah watching her every move and that commoner getting in the way...

Taren gritted his teeth, remembering the way that boy stepped in at the dance and embarrassed him. A fire of hatred began to burn steadily warmer in the pit of his stomach at the thought that Zelda, at the very moment, was traipsing around the beautiful green countryside with him...

" _Take care of him, son,_ " his father's words rang true. Taren refused to let him down. He would prove his worth to his father, and prove himself a worthy son of Ten'al-taria. With a sneer, he wheeled around and headed toward the castle stables.

* * *

Lydia... Caedmon... He kept repeating the names over and over again, muttering them at barely a whisper, and concentrating on what it felt like to say them...

Link made his way toward Epona, who was too busy nibbling grass in the shade to notice his approach. The young Hylian stroked the mare's chestnut fur, closed his eyes, and recalled again the vision of his mother the Great Deku Tree Sprout showed him years ago.

 _She must have been running to Ordon,_ he thought to himself _, but got caught, was mortally wounded, and fled into the woods. Lydia Aelstan..._

Link picked up a smooth pebble by the base of the tree and tried to skip it across the water to the other bank. It flipped over four times on the surface before sinking into the shallow pool.

_Oh, no, Caedmon survived in a manner of speaking... He lost everything that night... Living on the outskirts of the forest... Possibly hoping death would find him..._

The words of the duke and duchess tossed around in his thoughts so violently he felt dizzy. With a deep huff, Link collapsed against the trunk of an old oak tree and lowered his hat down over his eyes.

Zelda had brought him here to find a name. Now that he had it, however, he wanted more. What good was a name to him? Being able to link himself to one of those family trees Zelda was so found of seemed ridiculous.

Link didn't know much about families. The Kokiri didn't have them. Malon, his friend from Lon Lon Ranch, first introduced him to the Hylian concept of a family during his first visit to Castle Town.

 _"A father is there to teach you things, silly,"_ she giggled when Link asked her what a father was for. _"Like how to be a grown up..."_

But Link figured that out for himself. He always figured things out for himself, without a parent, without family. Still, if there was a possibility, however faint...

"Link!" Zelda's urgent voice met his ears. "Link, why did you storm off like that?"

The young Hylian slumped further against the tree and did not respond. He wanted to be alone to think some more.

"Link, talk to me." She was standing right beside him now. "Please..."

"Zelda, I don't have anything to tell you. I'm just thinking." His words came out with more venom than he intended.

"I knew you would say that." She snickered and wrenched his hat off his head. Link clamped his eyes shut. "But I already know what you're thinking anyway."

"And what is that?" He mumbled.

"That you're going back to the Lost Woods," the princess stated matter-of-factly.

Link looked up at the Zelda, holding his hat above his head. She seemed excited. For what he didn't know.

"No I'm not," he scoffed. Zelda was wrong. "I left Kokiri Forest for more reasons than—"

"I didn't mean Kokiri Forest, Link." She rolled her eyes. "I meant the Lost Woods, the western edge near Lake Hylia."

"Oh..." _That part._

"I know you feel it in your heart," she pressed further. "He's still out there. That's what you believe."

"So what if I do?"

"Link..." He felt her kneel in the grass beside him. "I want you to go." She spoke I can take care of myself. The warning you passed along to Impa and I about the Ten'al-tarians, you did the right thing and now— you should follow your heart. Please do not hold back on my account."

"I can't do that, Zel. No way." Link shook his head definitely.

"I knew you would—"

"You knew I was going to say that." He cut in. A tone of bitterness crept into his voice. "Well, if you know so much, you must also understand why I can't go. Not until the Ten'al-tarians leave."

"Link, did you ever consider that your presence at the castle, your proximity to me, might be what prompts Zel-Taren to act rashly?"

Link's eyes shot open. He paused and considered the Princess' concern. Was he falling into a trap? Was his determination to stop the nightmares actually fueling them? He never considered the possibility of manipulation, something both he and the Princess had fallen victim to in the past. The future was such a tricky business.

"Wasn't it our knowledge of the future," the Princess suggested on cue, "that pushed us to act so impetuously last time?"

"But what if I do leave... and the things that I've seen come to pass? How could I live with myself knowing that I stepped aside and let them happen?"

"But don't you understand what I'm saying? There's no way of knowing for certain what will happen whether you stay or leave. No matter what we do, we may not be able to prevent what you've seen from coming to pass."

"Terrific," Link groaned. He hated not being able to shake the sense of foreboding when it consumed him.

"The only thing we can control," Zelda added, "is how we deal with the challenges as they unfold. If you let the future control your actions, you will lose sight of what's happening right in front of you." She sighed wearily. "I say that from my own experiences."

 _By the grace of the Goddesses, she was always right!_ Link thought to himself. _Triforce of Wisdom..._ and before he could give the matter one more second of thought, he found himself saying, "One week. I'll look no longer than one week... and if anything happens, if you notice anything out of the ordinary—"

"I will use the Ocarina," she cut him off. "Meanwhile, I will use this time to see what more I can squeeze from Taren. Perhaps he will be more willing to open up to me if you're not threatening him."

Link scrunched his brow. "I've never threatened him. I've hardly spoken two words to the bloke!"

"Come on, Link. You know what I mean." She giggled, but the young Hylian really didn't have a clue. It was not unusual, however, for her to understand something he could not.

The sun was at its peak now and its rays the most intense. The shallow pool shimmered invitingly in front of Link, but it, too, had boiled long in the heat. He doubted it would be overly refreshing. They sat in silence for a few minutes, undoubtedly thinking about everything they had heard and learned over the past forty-eight hours... and then perhaps some about the days to come as well.

Drowsiness finally began to consume Link. Flies buzzed overhead and Epona whinnied irritably. After a few long minutes of silence, Link felt something hit his shoulder. It was Zelda, leaning against him.

"We can't fall asleep, Zel," he stated just above a whisper. The princess nodded silently.

"Zelda," Link cleared his throat. "Can I ask you one last thing?"

"Hmm..." she mumbled, eyes closed, still reclining on Link's shoulder.

"Why are you so keen on helping me?"

The princess blinked. She sat up, yawned, and brushed herself off. "Link," she said matter-of-factly, "for the pain my childish ignorance had caused you over the years, I will be in your debt forever. Besides, it's what friends do, is it not?"

Link smiled but said nothing. Zelda looked up at the sun and frowned as she stood. "We'd better go, Link. I must make haste for the castle and you, well..." And before Link could think twice, the princess pulled him to his feet, leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck."

Even after two days of no sleep, her smile was radiant. Link felt instantly awake. He nodded mutely and watched her as she withdrew from the pocket of her dress a sleek blue instrument - the Ocarina of Time - and held it to her lips. The jubilant tune of the Prelude of Light filled the thick humid air, and in a flash, the princess was gone, leaving Link alone with the horses at the edge of the water.


	7. Chapter 7

Grass stains and dried dirt caked the bottom edges of Zelda's skirts. She ran her fingers through her sweat-matted hair, her scalp burning as her fingers caught on thick snags. The fearful looks of maids, cooks, and guards followed her down the long castle corridors, though the princess understood it was not her they feared...

Zelda sharply rounded the final turn before her father's study and stumbled as she drew face to face with Impa.

"Zelda, you're a mess," the Sheikah stated pointedly.

The princess took a step back and examined herself. Her lips pursed. She hastily shook some of the spare bits of grass and twigs from her gown.

"How bad is it?" She asked cautiously. Impa's expression, as usual, gave nothing away.

"He's certainly not pleased."

"Impa..."

"Princess, I don't have any information for you. I told him you left first thing in the morning, and he's been holed up in his study all afternoon."

"But when you told him," Zelda pleaded, "how did he take it? What did he say? What did he look like?"

"He looked tired, Your Highness. He worries about you, and he didn't say anything. He nodded and walked off."

The princess exhaled deeply and shook her head in exasperation. "He's going to worry himself to death, my father..."

"Then I suggest you not provoke him further," the Sheikah said with a smile. "Unless you're ready to become queen today."

Zelda fixed Impa with a withering don't-tempt-me stare, but the Sheikah ignored it and gave the princess a gentle push toward the door of the study. In the dark cramped sitting room, Barnabus scribbled away at rolls of parchment piled on his tiny desk in front of him. His brow furrowed as Zelda entered the tight lobby, and his lips curled into an accusatory grin. "The king is expecting you, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Barnabus," the princess replied in her most dignified tone. She hastily turned her back on the secretary and tried to ignore the unmistakable gleam of pleasure that shone through his beady eyes.

The study was the same as always— the same books stacked high along the walls, same mahogany desk, arching window, and maroon Gerudo rug. The King, however, was not hunched over his desk this time. In fact, he was not sitting at all. He stood with his back turned on the study facing the window, arms clasped behind him. He did not turn when she entered.

Zelda glided slowly up to the desk, and slid out the same rigid, wooden seat she occupied days before, but she hesitated before taking the seat. Silently, she pushed the chair back in and rounded the desk to stand beside her father.

The king's full height, square jaw, and broad shoulders created an imposing silhouette. Once again, though, the king's eyes startled the princess. The thick creases she noticed the previous evening seemed to have grown more prominent, more deeply entrenched. His shoulders sagged more than normal. The corners of his mouth wilted into a weary frown.

The princess reached out slowly, paused, then placed her hand gently on her father's back. When he did nothing to combat her touch, she took a step closer and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Have I been a good father to you, Zelda?" The king's voice quavered as he spoke.

"Of course you have." The princess eyed her father quizzically. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

The king dropped his gaze and licked his lips. "Sixteen years old— you are a woman now..."

 _Here it comes,_ Zelda thought, and braced herself for the impending lecture.

"...And I have never told you the story of how your mother died."

The unexpected response completely stupefied her. She searched her father's face for a sign he was either kidding or delusional— but all she saw in his puffy, glazed eyes was intense sadness.

"She died in childbirth, father," the princess responded cautiously. "I know that."

"That is the reason, Zelda. It is hardly the story."

The princess eased the king's armchair away from his desk and encouraged him to take a seat. He wearily obliged and reclined slowly, placing his head in his hands. The princess knelt at the foot of the chair. She rested her cheek on her father's knee and waited silently for him to continue.

"I married her when I was sixteen. She was fifteen, and it was love at first sight..."

"I know this too, father," Zelda noted. "I can tell by the way you stare into her portraits."

"We were married thirty years," the king continued as if he hadn't heard his daughter. "My father died shortly after the Civil War ended. Cordelia and I ruled over twenty of Hyrule's most peaceful and prosperous years, but we could not produce an heir."

"Father, I..."

"Oh, there were countless miscarriages and stillborns, but Cordelia never became discouraged. She insisted that one day the Goddesses would reward us for our struggles— that the only failure would be to stop trying."

The king paused and swallowed hard. The more he spoke, the more hollow and scratchy his voice became. "Then, however, there came a time when she could not get pregnant at all, and we feared that her days of even conceiving were behind her. She was forty years old..."

A single tear slipped from the king's eye and fell onto Zelda's hand wrapped tightly between her father's fingers. "My advisors suggested everything from adultery to divorce, but I loved Cordelia too much. I just couldn't bring my self too... We were under such tremendous pressure. Only one line of kings has ever ruled this land... That was when Cordelia started to pray... every day... every night. The more worried the people grew about what would become of the kingdom should the line be severed, the more ardently she prayed... Then finally, after eight years, she conceived."

"Her belly grew like it never had before. The baby kicked inside, tossed and turned, full of life. For a few happy months, we believed the Goddesses had answered our prayers. But then—" the king choked on his words and another tear fell, "she grew sick, very sick... The pregnancy, it seemed, was killing her. Healers, shamans, and doctors of every race examined her. She tried countless remedies, potions, spells, and prayers, but everyone she saw came to the same conclusion— if they did not terminate the pregnancy, she would surely die."

Zelda's heart raced. The conversation obviously pained her father deeply, but she could not come up with any words of comfort. The king shivered and turned his gaze back toward the window.

"Zelda..." he swallowed hard, "my sweet princess. I have never been the man, the king, I should be. I have never been strong like your mother, or like you, willing to stand up for what you believe is right in the face of adversity. I never, I never..."

"Father..." She tried to encourage him but lost her voice when, for the first time since she entered the study, the king made direct eye contact with her. His swollen gray eyes and piercing sad stare made her blood run cold.

"The doctors told us," the king spoke slowly, "that if we terminated the pregnancy, your mother would live. But if she chose to continue, she would die, and there was no way of knowing whether you would too..."

Zelda said nothing and waited patiently for the end of her father's confession.

"I begged her to reconsider," the king continued painfully, "begged her not to leave me alone, she was everything to me. I didn't know, I didn't know you would..." The king choked again and shook as he professed. "I'm not fit to be king, not fit to be your father... If it had been up to me, I would have let the healers take you... just to keep her."

And then he broke down. He pressed his hands to his eyes and wept, his shoulders sagging under the tremendous weight of his confession. The princess stood slowly and looked down at her father huddled in his arm-chair. She sincerely felt sorry for him. There was no anger, no resentment, just... pity.

"You didn't know, father," she said at a tone barely above a whisper. "The only thing you are guilty of was letting fear of the unknown control your actions. Men have been guilty of such judgment since the beginning of time."

"But I am the king. I should be above such foolish reasoning."

"But you are also mortal, father, and I cannot hold a grudge against you for a decision you made sixteen years ago. Especially considering how much you have already suffered..."

The king inhaled deeply and wiped his eyes. "Your wisdom, my child, is why you will make a far better ruler for this country than I."

"Please, father, don't—"

"You are more wise than I could ever—"

"But I am not perfect," Zelda flatly retorted. "I have made terrible mistakes in judgment as well."

"Childish errors, perhaps, but nothing like what I am guilty of."

Zelda fell silent. _If only he knew of the trouble she caused..._ She thought, but knew they reached the road block in the conversation. The princess understood that the truth, in this instance, would be far too obscure, too inconceivable for the king to comprehend. "I must ask then," she shifted the conversation slightly, "why are you telling me this now?"

Something sparkled in the depths of the king's eyes as Zelda asked this, and he fixed her with a smile she had not seen from him in a very long time - a proud smile. "I never, ever want you to believe that you disappointed me. I love you, and while we may have our disagreements, I will always trust you."

Zelda bent down and wrapped her arms around her father's shoulders. The king pulled her into a gentle embrace. In the princess' ear he whispered, "Your mother wanted nothing more than to bring you into this world, and every day I know you make her proud."

* * *

Link felt Epona's muscles twitch excitedly. The mare gave a quick lurch forward, seemingly forgetting that she had Adda tethered to her side. The young Hylian gave the reins a hard tug to remind her of it, but Link knew what had suddenly excited the horse so...

The smells of livestock and freshly strewn hay lingered in the thick afternoon air. The further along the path he rode, the louder the moos of the cows and clucks of the Cuccos became. Lon Lon Ranch was hardly an hour's ride from Ordon. Surrounded by a thick grove of trees, the ranch was one of his favorite places in Hyrule, and the home of his first Hylian friend.

A wooden barn and the white stucco walls of a farm house became visible through the trees. The dirt path came to an end below a swinging sign that read, "Lon Lon Ranch: Home of Hyrule's Finest Cows and Milk."

A wave of fiery red hair flashed around the corner of the barn, followed by a loud scream, "Daaaaaaad, there's a visitor!"

Link couldn't help but smile as he patted Epona and slipped off her back. A young woman appeared from behind the barn. She kept her focus down toward her boots as she wiped her dirt-encrusted hands on her leather apron. "Welcome to Lon Lon Ranch, sir, I..." Her eyes met Link's, and she seemed to choke on her words.

"Link..." Her mouth hung open while her blue eyes stood wide with shock. She blinked twice, rooted to her spot, before setting off at gallop to close the gap between herself and Link until...

Slap!

Malon's firm hand met his cheek. "Link, you slick bastard!"

Link stumbled backward, blindly rubbing his raw skin. "What in the name of Farore was that for?"

"You know bloody well what that was for!"

"Obviously I don't or I might have—"

Malon made another lunging swipe at Link's face, but this time he caught her wrist inches away from it. "—Been more prepared for a fight."

Malon pulled back and folded her arms across her chest. She had grown a lot since the last time Link saw her, to the point where she looked very much like her future self he remembered from all those years ago. Her thick red hair, speckled with bits of hay, accented the blazing fire that danced in her dark blue eyes. Her freckled nose scrunched as she looked at him, seething.

"You should very well know why I took a swipe at you, you horse-thieving liar!"

"Horse-thieving?" Link gasped. "You gave Epona to me."

"Did not."

"Did too..." Link wrapped the mare's reins around his hands firmly. "You said that Epona would be happier seeing the world with me than being cooped up on this farm..."

"So long as you bring her back once in a while!" She leapt toward Link again and tried to wrestle the reins from his hands. He gave in without much of a fight, not wanting to upset the ranch girl further.

"How do you know I haven't been on an adventure all this time?" Link asked, backing away.

"You said you were going back to the forest, last time you dropped by. That was four years ago!" Malon placed a soft kiss against Epona's forehead and gently stroked the mare's nose. "You promised you wouldn't keep Epona away so long."

"Ok, you got me there..." Link sighed, "but I am sorry, and I won't do it again, I swear."

"And why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm not living in Kokiri Forest anymore. I've left for good this time."

Malon turned her attention back to Link. She squinted, bidding Link to elaborate.

"I'm on a new mission," he continued, still keeping his distance between himself and the ranch girl. "That's sort of what ignited my decision to leave... but I don't think I'll go back even when it's over."

Malon continued to examine Link carefully, which he presumed meant she was at least considering his words. "You're not through explaining this to me, Fairy Boy."

Her eyes narrowed, but the corners of her lips turned into a mischievous smile. Link chuckled, "I know that."

"But the horses need food, water, and some rest." Malon placed a gentle kiss on Epona's nose. "I can deal with you later."

"And what about me?" Link blinked. His mouth fell open in disbelief.

"What about you?" Malon snickered.

"Don't I get food and water too?" Link pleaded innocently.

"You, Fairy Boy..." she smiled mischievously, "you get to help me with farm chores."

Malon picked up a nearby pitchfork and tossed it to Link. A second later, Talon stumbled around the corner of the barn. "What in tarnation!" He wheezed and clutched his chest. "What were you yellin' about, darlin'?"

"It's ok, Dad. It's only Link."

"Link, huh..." He squinted in a manner very much like his daughter. "Well, good. Then you can help Malon muck the stalls."

Malon snorted as she tried to suppress a giggle. She patted Epona once more on the nose, untethered Adda from the mare's side, and tossed Link the white horse's reins. The ranch girl made a clicking noise, bidding Epona to follow, and led the way into the stable. Link followed without protest.

He spent the rest of the afternoon scooping and shoveling, piling hay, wood, and bags of feed... but he enjoyed it. He felt strangely self-satisfied— like how he felt during his adventures— every time he asked Malon, who worked alongside him, for his next task. She talked nonstop about the farm, her father, Ingo, the horses, the places she'd been to sell milk, the first time she went to the castle without her father, the time she fought off a thief in Hyrule Field trying to steal the cart, the races she won, the prized horses she bred, and more... Link listened closely to everything and enjoyed her company as he worked.

As the sunlight dimmed and the moon became visible to the east, Link and Malon hung up their shovels and pitchforks, washed their faces and hands in a water basin, and sat down to a delicious meal of roast Cucco, corn, and of course, Lon Lon milk. Not long into the meal, however, Link felt himself dozing off. He phased in and out of the conversation Malon had roped her father into about the next royal milk delivery.

"I was thinking that, with the Princess' horse here and all, I could make the trip to the castle a week earlier than scheduled and return Adda."

"I don't want you anywhere near that castle while those folk are there."

"Don't be silly, Dad. It's not like they would pay any attention to me."

"You heard me, darlin'. Not by yourself. We'll go together at the scheduled time... Malon." The ranch owner nodded in the direction of Link, now with his head propped on his knuckles, eyes half opened.

"Hey Link," she laughed and rose from the table.

"Hmm..." he groaned in response.

"Why don't we head over to the loft?"

He nodded absentmindedly and followed Malon down the stairs out onto the moonlit grounds. A warm summer breeze swirled through the night air, and the light of the half moon made the race track just visible beyond the farmhouse. Link shook his head to clear it and followed Malon along the path.

He always spent the night in the hay loft when he visited the ranch, and Link didn't mind, especially on a warm night. The hay was softer than his bed in the forest, and there was a hole in the roof he could recline and view the stars through. Malon also loved the loft. It was her thinking place, her sanctuary. She showed it to him the first time he visited the ranch... and again when he returned seven years later, in a time Malon no longer remembered.

Link climbed the ladder, leaned back on to the sweet-smelling hay, arms crossed behind his head, and relaxed his sore muscles. It had been a long time since he had worked that hard. Malon sat beside him with her arms wrapped around her knees, drawing them toward her chest. Link closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Keese waking from the rafters of the silo, the horses stomping in the stables, and Malon singing softly to herself as she often did when she was in a particularly pensive mood.

He liked to hear Malon sing. The music of the ocarina, its bouncing notes and whistles, certainly amazed him, but the voice of the farm girl enchanted him. The fact that such a beautiful, full, smooth sound could come from a person, without the aid of an instrument... her voice was a true blessing from the Goddesses. Link clung to every note of the song until it softly died in the night air, and the young Hylian knew the time had come to start answering the farm girl's questions.

"So, Link," Malon began, "Are you going to tell me what brought you here? Are you going to let me know why you left the forest?"

He had given a considerable amount of thought throughout the day about how he wanted to approach this conversation, and about how much Malon needed to know. The young Hylian kept his eyes closed and spoke carefully, slowly. "Can I ask you something? Something personal?"

"You can ask, but that doesn't mean I'll answer."

Link took that as a cue to proceed. "How much do you remember your mother?"

Malon blinked. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. Link seemed to have caught her off guard. "Well, a fair amount, I guess. Though its mostly emotions and feelings I remember now, and the stories Dad tells me. She died when I was five."

"How did she die?" Link lowered his gaze, hiding the guilt he felt for dragging up what must have been a painful subject for the young farm girl.

"Umm..." Malon shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "A fire... in the old silo. She was trying to rescue some trapped cows when the roof collapsed."

"I'm sorry..." Link whispered but Malon cut him off.

"Don't be. It was a long time ago, after all." The farm girl shrugged. "It was mostly dad that suffered anyway. I think he kind of felt responsible. He was in the barn too, but he got out and... survivor's guilt I guess."

"Can you... I don't know... tell me about her, I guess... what you remember at least?"

"Sure, sure, but Link..." she tilted her head to the side and ran her fingers through her hair. "What's this about? These questions are a little strange coming from you."

"It's kind of a long story," Link backtracked, trying to find the right words, "but well, I inherited this medallion, and only this morning, I found out who it belonged to."

"Well, who?" Malon asked impatiently.

"My mother..." Link muttered breathlessly. He had trouble saying the word.

"So, wait," Malon's eyes narrowed on the young Hylian. "You're telling me this morning you found out who your mother was?"

Link nodded.

"And you waited till now to tell me this?" The farm girl stared at him, utterly bewildered. "Link this is big... this is... Well, what is it exactly? You don't seem too excited."

"I don't know what to be," Link replied honestly. "I mean, she's dead, and she's been dead for a long time. Knowing her name doesn't change anything, and she doesn't have any family left."

"But still... you can't tell me it doesn't mean anything at all."

Link racked his brain trying to make sense of what he felt. He pictured the medallion, the family tree in the library, the duke's house in Ordon, his mother's tear-stained face... It was this face he concentrated hard on— her green eyes and blonde hair, her thin jaw line and nose much like his own. He focused on this image and said the name to himself... _Lydia, Lydia Aelstan._

"The name... knowing it makes me feel... more Hylian, I guess," he said aloud. "Like when I first learned that I wasn't a fairy boy from the forest. It's a feeling very much like that... it feels like it makes sense. Like I'm waking up from a dream."

"Everyone wants to know where they came from." Malon stated with confidence. "It's Hylian nature. For most of us, however, it's just something we've always known. I can't imagine what it would feel like to have no idea who my parents were."

"But why is that?" Link's voice rose. "Why do I care so much about someone I don't remember, when nothing I discover changes anything?"

Malon's eyes widened. "It does change things. Just not things you can see or feel. After all, she's a part of you, silly."

"What do you mean?" Link rolled over onto his stomach and propped his head up to look at Malon directly. She scrunched her nose, deep in concentration.

"I guess.. it's like how Dad tells me all the time that I remind him of Mom— that I have her hair and her eyes, her love for animals, her riding ability, and definitely her voice. Dad can't sing at all."

"So you're saying that..." Link wearily rubbed his forehead. "I wonder if then... no, that just sounds ridiculous."

"What, Link?" Malon urged. "What's ridiculous?"

"If you remind your dad of your mom, someone you barely knew, then I wonder if..." Link sighed and gazed skyward, "I'm like my parents at all."

"I'm sure you are," Malon stated with a convincing degree of certainty.

"But how do you know?" Link shook his head.

The farm girl smiled. Her blue eyes reflected the bright moonlight. "Because... It's like Dad always says, the ones who loved us, never leave us. They live inside our hearts."

* * *

Brilliant pink streaks highlighted the purple sky. The sun, just visible through the spires of the castle, glowed a bright shade of orange. After a bath and a change of clothes, Zelda made her way across the ground to the stables to think for a while before dinner. Adda's stall was empty, but the other horses whinnied and bowed their heads when she arrived.

The princess slid onto a bench below a pine tree outside the stable walls, and pulled the Ocarina of Time from the pocket of her skirts. Reverently, she pressed the instrument to her lips and began to play the soft melody of her lullaby. She closed her eyes as she blew into the ocarina, allowing the music to run freely through her, letting its soothing rhythms ease her weariness. Music had such a sedative power...

Snap! A twig crunched sharply behind her.

Zelda flinched and dropped the ocarina. She fumbled for the sleek blue instrument, but it rolled just out of her reach into the waiting hand of Zel-Taren, emerging from the stable.

"This is a lovely ocarina, princess. What a powerful melody... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"I-I thought I was alone." Zelda swallowed hard. Seeing the Ocarina of Time in the hands of anyone besides herself or Link sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through her, especially when that someone seemed to recognize it as more than an instrument... "It's just a lullaby, is all," the princess shrugged off Taren's pointed compliment.

"And aren't all lullabies at least somewhat powerful?"

"I suppose..." Zelda extended her hand. "May I have it back, please?"

Taren seemed to hesitate slightly, or perhaps the princess imagined it, but he returned the ocarina without objection, and to Zelda's relief, switched topics. She watched the prince closely as he pulled a handful of oats from his pocket and offered them to a painted gelding.

"Such lovely creatures, Hylian horses. No beast in Ten'al-taria, and perhaps all the kingdoms of the world, can match their grandeur. I noticed your horse, the white mare, is not here, though..."

"No, I left her in the care of a friend."

"The same friend I met at the banquet last night?"

"Perhaps..." Zelda's eyes narrowed. The prince's pointed questions raised her guard and made her nervous. She could feel him trying to force a confession of some sort from her.

"Then he is no longer a guest of the castle, I presume?"

"No," Zelda replied slowly, "he had some business to attend to."

"I see. I'm sure you mentioned last night, but I cannot recall his ranks."

"Oh, Link is not nobility. He's just a friend. He was at the banquet upon my request."

"Curious, I suppose..." Taren tutted as he stroked the gelding's nose.

"What's curious?" Zelda held her breath. Taren's grin made her uneasy.

"A commoner, invited to a royal banquet?" he scoffed. "As closely connected as Hyrule and Ten'al-taria are historically, I believe it makes such intrinsic differences between our cultures stand out all the more profoundly..."

"What do you mean?"

"Take the horses, for example." Taren turned to face a beautiful steel-colored stallion with a white mane. "Examine the musculature in its neck, its strong body, and deadly powerful hooves. Look how high this stallion holds his head upon his neck, looking down upon even us— a prince and a princess. I believe this horse sees himself as our equal. You must forgive me, Zelda. I've been tormented by Hyrule's beauty since we arrived."

"We are a blessed land, Taren. We have much to praise the Goddesses for..."

"We believe in the same Goddesses, Zelda," Taren cut her off, "Nayru, Farore, and Din. In Ten'al-taria we cut away grand temples in the mountainside to provide them with offerings, and erect statures in their honor for prayer."

He did not raise his voice. He did not sound angry. Rather, he continued inquisitively, almost as if he was speaking to himself. "Why is it then that my people live amongst the rocks and ice, drowning in weeks of complete darkness while Hyrule prospers so? Come now, Zelda, you are wise. Have you no idea?"

"I'm sorry for your troubles, Taren, but I..."

"Ten'al-taria doesn't need Hyrule's sympathy, Your Highness." He fixed the princess with an almost indiscernible stare— a mixture of sadness, longing, and jealousy. "We need some of your power... I'll see you at diner."

With that, Taren bowed to the princess and set off at a long, striding pace toward the castle, leaving behind Zelda, her head throbbing with a feeling of such profound anxiety unlike any she had felt in five years.

* * *

Link's eyes darted from right to left, always on constant alert. The trees grew thicker the further he pressed. The gaps between them shrank and constricted the light trying to slip through the cracks. Epona whinnied uncomfortably as she stumbled over the winding roots that ran along the bank of a narrow brook.

Link had only seen this part of the forest once before— and he didn't like it. It felt different than the Lost Woods he knew— the laughter of a Skull Kid dancing on a tree stump, the rustling of a Deku Scrub shrinking into its pod, even the bone chilling howl of a Wolfos infused the Lost Woods with life. Here, no fireflies twinkled like stars below the canopy; no fairies bobbed playfully up and down. There was not a sound, not a creature around. It was like stepping into another world entirely...

Two days had passed since he left the ranch, though the trees blocking the sun made it difficult to gauge the time. He entered the forest from the western edge that bordered Lake Hylia, just as the duke mentioned, and spent several hours combing the perimeter for signs— paths, footprints, artifacts— that might mark a trail deeper into the forest, but to no avail. Instead, he chose one of the thin, trickling brooks that leaked from the lake into the thicket downstream and pursued it, knowing that if someone was to survive in the forest for so long, they would have to settle near a water source.

Epona pulled against her reins, jerking her head toward the stream.

"All right, girl," Link obliged. He patted the mare's neck, slid from her back, and grabbed his satchel. As the horse walked over to drank from the stream and nibble at some of the clovers growing on the bank, Link searched the vicinity for wood dry enough to build a fire with. As he scoured the ground, he thought about Zelda and wondered about her safety, but he figured if something was wrong, anything at all, he would know... he would feel it.

The young Hylian returned to the brook with an armful of small logs and twigs. He dumped them on the ground, arranged a few in a tent-like formation, and shoved the rest to the side for later use. Then, with a simple snap of his fingers, he set them ablaze, filling the surrounding area with an orange glow.

Link, much like the princess, had a high magical aptitude, though his skills were far less polished. In general, the young Hylian consciously avoided the use of magic. Something about it made him feel like he cheated. However, Din's Fire, as he aptly named the pyrotechnic charm, had proven over the years to be a useful trick— and a much more efficient fire-starter then rubbing a twig between rocks.

Comfortable with his surroundings, Link reeled in his satchel and withdrew an apple and a bottle of milk, some of the provisions Malon packed for him. Epona clomped up from the stream and nudged Link in the back of the head.

"What is it, girl?" He laughed and scratched the mare's nose. Epona ignored this sign of affection, however, and leaned forward to take a bite of Link's apple. The young Hylian pulled it away just in time, and Epona's teeth clamped down on nothing but air.

"Hey now, you had your apple not long ago. This one's mine."

Epona nudged Link as if to plead her case.

"We don't have that many supplies, and they need to last us three more days. You looked perfectly happy munching on those clovers over there."

Epona grunted her disapproval and walked back toward the bank. Link sighed and munched on his apple. He knew the mare would hardly stay ticked at him long.

Darkness settled in the forest rapidly, a darkness that no fairies, fireflies, or stars punctuated. Link pulled out his ocarina to call Epona back to the fire. He fumbled through his satchel for it and raised the instrument to his lips. Just before he inhaled to play the first note, however, a blood curdling, high-pitched scream echoed through the darkness. It was Epona.

Link leapt to his feet, snatched his sword and shield, wretched one of the flaming logs from the fire, and took off in the direction of the painful cries. Hardly fifty feet away from the camp, Link noticed a dark shadow thrashing against the forest backdrop. He moved close enough to make out the mare's white mane and tail, though by the way she jerked and kicked about, he could not get close enough to touch her.

"Whoa girl... steady!" He called, raising his arms above his head. In the sparkle of the torchlight Link noticed what was making her jump, thrash, and wail. A thick metal trap with jagged teeth bore deep into the skin around her ankle and clenched tighter and tighter the more she tugged.

"Epona! Shh... Woah girl!" Link waved the torch in front of the horse, hoping to distract her from the pain in her leg. "Epona... Damn!" Link shuddered. A pain shot through his heel and up through his leg. Another trap caught him by the boot, but had not sunk in so deep.

He held his torch up and eyed the clearing. A half dozen metal traps shimmered in the light. Link reach down and prodded the trap around his ankle open. He quickly pried his boot free and examined it. "The trap must have been laid by a Hylian," he thought to himself. The metalwork was far too sophisticated for Skull Kids, Moblins, or— Link shuddered at the thought— Stalfos. He threw the trap at the others, setting off a fresh slew of snapping noises that startled Epona further, but rendered the other glistening, toothed contraptions useless.

"Calm down girl, you're gonna wake the whole forest!" Link pleaded, turning his attention back to the distressed horse. Epona reared on her hind quarters and knocked Link backward. The Gilded Sword tumbled from its sheath onto the forest floor. Link dropped his shield, wedged the torch between two branches, and advanced again on Epona with his hands free, making sure to stay in her line of sight at all times.

"Epona, calm down. I can't help you when you carry on like this!" Link stretched his left arm forward to brush her nose. His touch sedated her almost immediately. Epona kept crying but stopped thrashing enough for Link to bend down and examine the trap on her leg. Its teeth had completely buried themselves into her bone. "Oh, Epona..." he tutted. The horse shuddered as he stroked her leg gently.

"Don't worry, girl. I'm going to get you out of there." But as Link said this, another sharp pain, this time a blow to the head, stunned him... and it wasn't because of Epona.

The horse stood still. She became more and more blurry as Link grew dizzy. He felt a small trickle of blood run down the back of his neck.

A high snap rang through the trees.

Epona whinnied again and began to kick.

Link fell forward onto the damp forest floor.

The last thing he saw was the fuzzy silhouette of a figure bending over to retrieve the Gilded Sword from the ground...


	8. Chapter 8

A dim, orange light melted away the fogginess clouding his vision.

The room smelled like leather and drying meat.

A spot on the back of his head pulsed with pain. His neck and shoulders ached.

Groggily, Link tried to massage the lump on his head, but his arm resisted.

Link blinked. Coarse ropes bound his arms, legs, and chest to a wooden chair. For a moment, he couldn't recall how he wound up in such a state... And then he remembered Epona... the forest.

Link surveyed his surroundings— some sort of cabin. A Wolfos pelt stretched across the dirt floor before the fireplace in front of him. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed an unkempt bed nestled into the right corner of the room, while his belongings were strewn across a small table to his left.

"Don't move," a scratchy, male voice echoed behind him. Link heard the stretching sound of an arrow being drawn tight on a bow. His muscles tensed.

"I want you to tell me who you are, and how you stumbled into my traps," the voice commanded.

"Sir, my horse?" Link ignored the faceless assault. He had enough experience dealing with threats on his life.

"Is alive, for now," the man stated flatly. "But she won't be without proper care, and she won't get that care if I kill you first."

Link, with his limbs constricted to the chair and weapons out of reach, knew he had no leverage. He quickly considered how much truth he should reveal to the stranger. "My name is Link," he said firmly. "And I came from the castle."

"You're well-equipped," the voice barked. "You bore a shield with the crest of the royal family. Are you a knight?"

"No."

"Then why do you carry a knight's shield?"

"Because I'm a friend of the Princess," Link answered with a cool confidence. "Who knows I'm here and will come looking for me if I fail to return."

"You have a lot of courage, young man," the voice sounded amused, "threatening someone who holds your life in his hands. Tell me, what brings a Hylian to the middle of the Lost Woods?"

Link craned his neck to try and glimpse the stranger, but the bindings around his chest restricted his movement. His eyes continued to scan the cabin, trying to piece together more information. A pair of boots lay at the foot of the bed, and a small black kettle crackled in the fireplace over the warm embers. _This must be a Hylian dwelling_... "I could ask you a similar question..."

"But you're the one tied to a chair, and I'm the one pointing an arrow at the back of your head."

The young Hylian heard the bowstring draw tighter. "If I tell you why I'm here," Link reasoned, "will you at least lower the weapon?"

"If your answer is sufficient," the voice grumbled.

Link paused and considered his options. How many people could possibly be living in the middle of the Lost Woods? More than likely, this man, if he wasn't Caedmon Aelstan, could tell him where to find the old knight. "I'm... looking for someone."

"Looking for someone? In the Lost Woods?" The man's voice quavered.

"It's the last place I know he was sighted."

"Is this an order of the crown?" The man croaked.

"No," Link injected quickly. "Personal business."

"You expect me to believe that a friend of the princess, equipped better than the Knights of Hyrule, braved the forest for some other reason than a royal decree?"

"Sir, no disrespect," Link rolled his eyes, "but I know you're not going to kill me. If you had it in you, I'd already be dead."

"Boy, you have some..." The voice seemed to rekindle some of its fury.

"You can believe whatever you want, but I know you're more scared than I am right now, so you're not fooling anyone."

"Rubbish," the gravelly voice spat.

"You're terrified that someone with much more power than I have will come looking for me." Link heard a pair of boots shuffle across the dirt floor. He continued, "I told you I'm a friend of the Princess, and she knows I'm here, so it's probably in your best interest to untie me, and let me be on my way. In return I swear by the Goddess I'll never tell a soul of your whereabouts."

A figure sauntered into Link's line of vision. Back turned, the man set a longbow down on the table and rounded on the fire. He grabbed a cloth from the mantle and bent over to stir the contents of the black kettle. The young Hylian watched the man closely. He had matted, shoulder length hair, peppered with streaks of gray. Animal fur and coarse leather adorned his body. Link couldn't see his face... but something about the man made the young Hylian's heart race, his stomach knot, and mouth dry out.

"Caedmon... Caedmon Aelstan?" The name slipped from Link's lips.

The black iron ladle crashed onto the floor. The woodsman hastened to pick it up and burned himself on the scalding metal. "Dammit!" He growled as he stood and kicked the ladle under the bed.

"So that's you then. You, You're Caedmon aren't you?" Link stumbled over his words.

"How do you know that name?" the man wheezed. Link couldn't tell from the man's voice whether he was surprised, angry, or frightened.

"A concerned old friend..." he answered.

The man's shoulders sagged. The thick layers of hide and fur he wore bogged down his frame. "You braved the dangers of the forest to look for an old man, who most presume dead... why? What business could you possibly have with Caedmon Aelstan?"

"That's for him to find out..." Link held his breath, seeking confirmation. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. If he jumped, he could never go back...

After a torturous, seemingly endless, moment's silence, the old man sighed, "I am Caedmon," and he turned around. "But what could you possibly want from me?"

He looked like a wild dog on two legs. An unkempt, sandy colored beard covered his pale skin. Deep wrinkles etched near the corners of his eyes and lips gave him a weathered appearance, but buried deep behind all the matted hair and hide, two sharp blue eyes pierced through the man's rough exterior.

Link swallowed hard. A complete stranger stood before him. Yet as he stared into the sad, grizzled face of the old man, something burned inside Link he could hardly explain. This man, this defeated old knight— hardly a phantom of his former self— seemed so... familiar.

A tempting desire to let the truth pour from his lips seized the young Hylian. Link wrestled to hold his tongue. Caedmon Aelstan, Link reminded himself, believed his wife and son died thirty years ago...

"Well, Sir Aelstan," Link finally asked, trying to break some of the tension in the air, "do you think you could untie me? I really do need to tend to my horse."

"Not until you tell me why you're here," Caedmon huffed, arms folded across his chest.

"Listen, I don't intend on staying in the Lost Woods more than a few days." Link twisted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to loosen the bindings. "Which means I'm going to need my horse."

"Impossible," Caedmon scoffed. "She dislocated her leg when she panicked. An injury like that'll take weeks, possibly a month, to heal."

"Well, in any case, a lame horse left alone in the middle of the Lost Woods is Moblin fodder," said Link pointedly. "Besides, if that horse dies on my watch, I might as well fling myself into Death Mountain Crater."

Caedmon eyed Link narrowly. "I want to be left alone, and I especially don't want anything to do with what's going on outside this forest. If that's why you're here, you best leave now... I doubt you'll make it out of these woods alive in the dead of night."

"Is that all?" Link replied, slightly annoyed. He could feel the old man's gaze examining him from head to toe.

"Hmm," Caedmon sighed heavily. "You have some nerve, kid," he tutted, slipped a knife out of his hip pocket, and went to work cutting through Link's bindings.

The young Hylian tried to sort through the hundreds of thoughts, feelings, and emotions swirling around in his mind. He thought about Malon bickering with Talon, and about what she would say if she found out about Epona's injury. He thought about Zelda and the King... and then this man, this wild, sad, defeated man, who, in another lifetime, was...

Link had never allowed himself to think about what he would say to Caedmon if he actually found the old knight. The idea seemed like such a long-shot when he first set off, but now... How could Link possibly tell him? How long could he delay the inevitable? This man who lost everything and exiled himself to hide from facing the pain of it all... how could Link possibly dredge up that terrible past?

However, the young Hylian knew he owed the truth to Caedmon— and himself— when the time was right.

Link felt the bindings slip from his arms and loosen around his ankles. He gingerly reached up to feel the sore spot on the back of his head, caked with dried blood, and wondered how long he'd passed out for. "What in Farore's name did you club me with?" he groaned.

"The body of my longbow," Caedmon stated bluntly as he severed the last rope.

"I'll say you did." Link stood slowly. His heel burned where the trap snagged his boot. "So how far away is the brook?"

"Not far." Caedmon grunted.

Link could still feel the old man's eyes on him as he equipped his knife, sword, shield, bow, and quiver. After he sorted through his satchel to make sure all his items— particularly the medallion— were still secure, Link followed Caedmon, who lit the way with a torch, out into the pitch black forest.

They walked in silence for several minutes. Link watched the back of Caedmon's head with such intensity he blindly stumbled over a root and crashed into the old woodsman's back.

"Watch it," Caedmon grumbled and pushed Link back onto his feet.

"S-Sorry," Link stuttered and brushed himself off, though he still couldn't remove his gaze from the torch-lit figure in front of him. Link observed the way Caedmon walked, light on his feet and always alert. They appeared to be almost exact same height.

"That's a nice sword you have, kid." Caedmon broke the silence, severing Link's intense concentration.

"Uhh... thanks." He blinked.

"My father was a blacksmith," Caedmon continued in a softer, much more conversational, tone than before. "He fashioned swords for the army. Nothing as nice as yours, though."

"It's infused with a few tricks, I believe," Link responded. "It's not Hylian craftsmanship."

"Hmm..." Caedmon nodded. "And you swear you're not a knight?"

"Nope."

"You'd make a good one, kid." Caedmon kept his eyes pressed forward as he spoke. "Calm under pressure— that's what it takes. Not brute strength or cunning, but courage. The ability to always stay calm in the face of danger... You've got that."

"Thanks." Link smiled subtly, but couldn't think of anything else to say. He had so many questions— questions he knew would only upset the old knight. The last thing the young Hylian wanted to was alienate the man... not after he just found him.

"Well," Caedmon continued, easing the pressure on Link, "if you're not a knight, then what are you exactly?"

"Ha," Link chuckled... _such a loaded question._ "I've been a lot things actually," he ticked them off on his fingers, "royal messenger, rancher, fisherman, swordsman, musician, errand boy, a traveler mostly..."

"Come on," Caedmon scoffed, "you can't hardly be older than sixteen or seventeen. When have you had time to do all that?"

"Yeah, well, time moves at a different pace for everyone."

"Hmm..." Caedmon huffed skeptically. Link could tell something about him puzzled the man— his stubbornness, perhaps, or his ambiguity. Link wasn't giving away enough information about himself to make Caedmon comfortable... but he wasn't lying either.

"She's straight ahead." The old knight nodded and pointed the torch toward the dark wood before them.

Link heard the brook before he could see anything. Caedmon drew up behind him with the torch, and a flicker of reflected light caught his eye.

"Oh Epona..." Link tutted. He approached the mare cautiously. Her nose was cold, and she shivered at his touch, but still nuzzled Link's arm affectionately, relieved to see him. The young Hylian bent down and examined her blood-soaked, left hind fetlock— swollen twice the size of her healthy right leg.

"Well, it's dislocated all right." Link blew his sweaty bangs out of his face. "The teeth of your damn trap probably did some damage to her too." The young Hylian gingerly stroked the wound. Epona huffed and recoiled.

"I didn't set the traps to catch horses, you know," Caedmon retorted.

"Or people..." Link rubbed his temples, deep in thought. "There's nothing much more I can do tonight. I'm not much of a healer."

"So then what? You wait at my place for royal officials to come find you? No way!"

"No," Link said as he rose and motioned for Caedmon to follow him deeper into the forest. "I'm going to find a healing fairy. It's the only chance I've got. And I'm going to need your torch, so can you please keep up?"

"A healing fairy?" Caedmon's expression shifted from skepticism to downright confusion.

"It's the Lost Woods," Link shrugged. "Fairies... they're all over the place."

Caedmon's mouth hung open, utterly dumbfounded. Link might have cared about the old knight's opinion had he not already shifted into problem-solving mode— his energies entirely honed in on healing Epona.

"Just what do you know about the forest, anyway?" Caedmon muttered, utterly exasperated by Link's know-it-all attitude. "I've lived here for almost twenty-five years— that's longer than you've been alive— and have never seen a fairy. Not one... and just where are we heading?"

"Right here." Link stopped beside the charred remains of a modest fire. "This is where I intended on setting up camp," he muttered and tried to remain calm as Caedmon's accusations and incessant questioning grew more and more wearisome.

"So this is where the fairies are... just buzzing around your camp."

"No," Link sighed irritably, "this is where the wood is that I'm going to use to make a splint for Epona's leg. The sooner I stabilize her ankle, the better."

"Oh, alright," Caedmon continued to sound off as Link located the pile of sticks he collected earlier and gathered them in his arms. "It's all making sense now. You're going to walk the lame horse back to my place and set off in the morning to find a healing fairy. Well, when you come up empty, then what are you going to do? Because you'd best be off before a search party comes looking for you."

"Why in the name of Farore are you so bloody determined on being alone!" Link wheeled around and shouted, almost dropping his load. "Stop being such a bloody coward; it's irritating."

"Listen, kid, you have no idea what I've been through, and I pray you never have to find out..."

"Too late," Link muttered under his breath. Caedmon, however, didn't hear and pressed onward. "... but I gave everything I had to the crown, _everything_ , and now the only thing left for me to do is wait for my day to come too."

"Even when," Link fired back, refusing to look Caedmon in the eye, "you obviously still have friends and loved ones out there who care about you. Give me a damn break."

"You, you..." Caedmon gawked, searching for words. "You don't know anything about me, kid."

They reached Epona again. She looked so scared and weak. Link exhaled warily and looked toward the heavens, sending up a silent prayer to Farore. How did this argument start? It certainly did not help the matter at hand.

"You're right," the young Hylian conceded, catching Caedmon off guard. "I don't know anything about you." He dropped the pile of wood beside the mare and set about carefully fashioning a splint around the wound. Epona shivered slightly, but remained otherwise patient and still.

"I do, however," Link continued to reason, "know what it's like to try and live feeling sorry for oneself. It's a blinding, consuming, dark, lonely place— and you usually don't realize you're there until someone else pulls you out of it. Since you isolated yourself out here, where no one could find you, no one could help you. For that, I do feel sorry for you." Link turned to face the old man and bade him to step forward. "Can you come a little closer? I need more light."

Caedmon nodded, but remained speechless. Link shuffled through his bag looking for something he could use for binding, but had nothing long enough except for... Link's heart sank. He removed his green, bunchy hat from his head and stared at it for a moment. He had many hats in his life, all similarly fashioned, just different sizes. He just hated the prospect of not having the hat, or any hat for that matter, on his head. Sentimentalities aside, Link withdrew his Kokiri blade and begrudgingly cut the green, pointed hat into several long strips of cloth.

"I shouldn't have called you a coward," Link admitted as he continued to wrap Epona's leg. "That feeling I was talking about, self pity, it's not born from a desire to run away as cowardice is... it comes from feeling lost. That's what you feel isn't it? Lost..."

Link knew, from the silence that followed his question, that he struck a chord with the old knight. Or at least, made Caedmon think.

"You know what," the woodsman responded hesitantly, "I like you, kid. You're stubborn. I like stubborn people. You may be insane, but you're right about me."

Link tied the final knot in the splint and examined his work. Satisfied, he repacked his satchel and found the unfinished apple core Epona wanted so badly. _If only he hadn't refused her,_ he thought to himself, and offered the core to the mare. _Then perhaps he wouldn't be stranded, however..._

"So is that why you're here then?" Caedmon asked as Link repacked his satchel. "Is that why you risked your neck in the woods? Because you think you can help me?"

"Well, I hope I can, at least." A flicker of a smile flashed across Link's lips, and if he wasn't mistaken, across Caedmon's face as well. Link's heart gave another lurch. Images flashed through his subconscious— images of Zelda tracing her fingers over the family tree in a library book, images of a thatched-roof house beside a shimmering watering hole, and images of a blonde, bloodstained woman fleeing from death.

He had to tell Caedmon the truth, and soon. The young Hylian knew the longer he waited, the harder it would be, but he also knew that he couldn't come clean until he fully accepted the truth. Something connected Link to the lonely, broken knight— something unexplainable and natural like love or friendship - and odd as it seemed, walking with the old woodsman, bickering with him, even just standing beside him, felt so natural.

* * *

Gossip and chatter buzzed like annoying flies in her ear. The princess gazed out the parlor window, watching little droplets of water gather on the glass pane. A book had lain open and untouched for an hour in her lap. Rain and thunder taunted her by keeping her locked inside, and the mounting tension she'd been feeling since leaving Ordon weighed heavily on her heart and mind.

Taren hardly spoke at diner the previous evening, and he'd grown increasingly distant all afternoon. Bits of their unsettling conversation at the stables, replayed over and over in her mind...

_"Ten'al-taria doesn't need Hyrule's sympathy, Your Highness. We need some of your power..."_

Such a jaded comment, Zelda thought. She knew a man who sought power once and terrorized everything in his path to obtain it... but perhaps she took the young prince far too seriously. After all, everyone knew Ten'al-taria as a desolate, frozen wasteland. He could just be jealous...

"Milady..." a faint voice broke through to Zelda's subconscious... "Milady."

"Hmm?" Zelda turned away from the window. Six pairs of eyes, narrowed in concern, stared back at her. "Sorry, I must have dozed off."

Zelda straightened her back and brushed her hair off her shoulders. The square parlor was a small room just beyond the Great Hall where the princess entertained subjects, studied, and fretted away time with the other women of the court. Bookcases and purple silk tapestries lined the walls. Velvet armchairs and couches circled a midnight blue rug in the center of the room. Her own throne sat on a dais a foot above the others. The ladies gathered eagerly around the base of her chair.

"Milady," a soft voice spoke out. It was Hadley Ethleberg. "I do not mean to pry, however, as a concerned friend, I must ask... is there something on your mind... something you wish to tell us?"

"Well, of course she's concerned," Lady Lorelei Tarquin, the raven-haired granddaughter of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and one of Zelda's maids-of-honor, scoffed. "Aren't we all? We're intelligent women, we all know about Hyrule's history with Ten'al-taria."

The others nodded.

"There's no need to worry, ladies," Zelda half-heartedly assured them. "Zel-Taren is harmless. He and his father are only here to make amends."

"Well, Zel-Taren is handsome," Lady Tarquin sighed as she fanned herself. "It is too bad he's Ten'al-tarian."

"I'm quite sure my father would not mind." Zelda rolled her eyes. "So long as I do not run him out of the country like poor Prince Alec."

The ladies burst into a fit of laughter, remembering what a chiding the princess received for not being more submissive to the young prince from Selbee.

"What about your friend from the other night?" A snide voice interrupted the hysterics. "I heard you did not run _him_ off. In fact, I heard you ran off _with_ him. That is why you were gone all day."

It was Veronica. Brow raised in accusation, she seemed to derive power from the dumfounded expressions on the faces of the other ladies who dared not challenge the princess. Zelda, however, did not flinch. Veronica de Caulmont had always been a bitter girl, desperate for attention, and she allowed jealousy to cloud her better judgment. Because Veronica was the daughter Absalom's mistress, she could never be a maid-of-honor as she fancied herself. The princess quickly diagnosed Veronica's jibe as an attention-seeking ploy.

"I beg your pardon, Miss de Caulmont," The princess coolly stated, "but you had best bite your tongue and remember your place. Otherwise, you may excuse yourself at once."

"My apologies, Milady," Veronica bowed her head slightly but maintained eye contact with the princess.

"Hmm..." Zelda ripped her gaze away from Miss de Caulmont toward the other ladies craning in further. "As brash as your accusations were, Veronica, I understand you probably did not arrive to such a bold position alone. My absence had all of you talking yesterday, did it not?"

The other girls seemed taken aback. Zelda had them cornered. No one wanted to upset the Princess further, though their guilty looks gave them all away.

"Well?" Zelda urged, lips pursed, waiting for an answer.

"We're most sincerely sorry, Your Highness," Hadley answered, knowing that, as the princess' closest friend, she risked taking the least public scolding. "It was not only your absence that shocked us, but the young man as well."

"We have never seen him before," Lady Rhoslyn Bourdekin, granddaughter of the Grand Master of Knights, added.

Lady Tarquin nodded. "It was quite obvious you two know each other."

"Is he noble?" Lady Spencer, daughter of the Baron of Remington, asked as she twirled one of her long blonde curls around her finger.

"Is he Hylian?" Veronica chided.

"He sure is handsome..." Hadley giggled.

A bittersweet smile flashed across Zelda's lips. _If only Link knew her entire court had been gossiping about him all day._ "Aren't we all curious," Zelda chuckled, "What makes you think I know him at all?"

"Your Highness, the way you danced with him..." Lady Bourdekin sighed.

"With such grace," Amery Middleton chimed.

"We all saw," Veronica injected. Zelda flashed her a testy look.

"Where did you go?" Hadley quickly rebutted to which a few of the girls echoed in unison, "We all want to know..."

"Calm down, ladies." Zelda raised her hand, slightly taken aback by such an outpouring of interest. "Link is just an old friend. He needed my help, and it was a matter of urgency. We went to Ordon to seek the help of the duke and duchess, and that is all I will say. The matter of my leave was personal and will remain between Link and I alone. Now, I'm quite through with this discussion..."

"So..." Lady Tarquin tested, "he's not noble then?"

"No, he's not noble." Zelda shook her head, and the swell of excitement instantly deflated from the room. A wave of disappointment washed over the ladies, and most returned to their reading without another word.

"That's too bad..." Lady Tarquin sighed.

"Yes," Zelda echoed, "Too bad..."

But the princess could not shake the subject. In fact, it weighed even more heavily on her mind than before. Why did it matter so that Link was not noble? She never cared before— but the other women did. If only they knew the wonderful things Link had done, how much he had risked for their country. Would they dismiss him so readily then?

Come to think of it, Zelda reasoned further, how many people really did know Link? His friends in the forest, the Sages, perhaps, and a few others, but Zelda had to consider herself in an elite company of individuals lucky enough to know Link— the true Link. Her heart thumped excitedly in her chest and she felt slightly guilty. _He's not noble..._ the words echoed inside her. _He's not noble._

But why did she care? She never had before.

More importantly, why did it matter?

The princess wondered where he was, how he was, and how much longer he would be...

* * *

Lightning cracked overhead. Rain slowly trickled down through the foliage, but beneath the thick canopy, the two travelers remained relatively dry. They walked briskly, weaving their way through vines and branches, hoping to make it back to the cabin before the forest became shrouded in total darkness.

"I still can't believe..." Caedmon shook his head as Link held a tiny glass bottle up to the trunk of a tree. The contents of the vial shimmered brightly and illuminated a freshly-carved X in the moss-covered bark.

"We should be less than one hundred paces east of the brook," Link announced, ignoring the old woodsman's disbelief as he'd been doing for most of the afternoon.

After a few hours of restless sleep, the young Hylian had woken and prepared to set off into the forest alone, but Caedmon had insisted on tagging along. Link originally welcomed the old knight's presence, hoping that perhaps he'd to come to understand the woodsman better... but the early part of the day had been filled with more of Caedmon's grumbling about how there were no fairies in the forest, how Link was crazy, and how the young Hylian had better leave before anyone came looking for him.

Now they had the fairy, and Caedmon still couldn't believe it. Link traced the brook for miles into the forest until, as he predicted, it fed into a larger stream— a stream not too far west from the Sacred Forest. A narrow, damp cave beside the stream housed one of the hundreds of fairy fountains hidden away in the Lost Woods. They collected the tiny pink fey, turned to head back to the cabin, and Link spent the last hour deflecting Caedmon's inquiries— How did he know about the fountain? Had he been there before? When was he planning on telling him why he came in the first place? The questions never ceased.

"Now's not the time," Link urged once more. "The forest is filled with monsters and creatures at night— Skull Kids, Deku Scrubs, Skulltulas, Wolfos, Moblins even..."

"There you go again, talking like you've been here before!" Caedmon raised his voice. "I know what lives in the forest, kid. I've fought most of them at one point or another."

"Well then," Link rounded on Caedmon. His eyes locked with the woodsman's. "You should know that most of them are attracted by loud noises."

"Just what can you possibly know about monsters? You can't even dream about some of the things I've fought."

"Goddess be praised if I'm not the one that kills you, Caedmon!" Link muttered through clenched teeth. He rubbed his temples, trying hard not to lose his cool.

The forest was unnaturally still and silent for twilight. The young Hylian supposed it had something to do with the storm, but the complete absence of life in the wood kept Link on edge. He tried to focused his attention on the sound of falling rain to soothe him, but could only focus on the silence... the uncanny, eerie silence that, in his experience, always signaled danger.

"I _have_ been here before." Link revealed as he exhaled. Caedmon said nothing, but fixed the young Hylian with another wide-eyed, bewildered look.

"Not here specifically," Link pressed, "but the forest, and I've been fighting these monsters my whole life. You asked why I seem to know where I'm going. Well, I do, to an extent."

"That's not—"

"Possible," the young Hylian interrupted, "I know. There's a lot of things about me that aren't possible, and when we get back to the cabin, I'll enlighten you. But it's almost dark, so now's not the..."

A low cackling met Link's ears. His blood ran cold. He froze, his fists clenched, and listened to the surrounding brush. They were being followed.

"Link?" Caedmon noticed the young Hylian had fallen back. "What is it?"

_That sound... it couldn't be..._

"Stalfos," Link whispered, the hair on his neck raised. He knew that sound from anywhere - clicking bones grinding against rusty metal— and the smell of dried bits of flesh clinging to their rotten skeletal remains.

"What?" Caedmon inched backward, longbow raised toward the rustling brush.

"Stalfos, and there is more than one."

"Should we run?"

"No use," Link whispered, reaching for his sword. "Once they've picked up your trail."

A jagged, rusty blade swung from the brush. Link rolled away in the nick of time, unsheathed his knife from his hip pocket, and flung it in the direction he was just standing. A blood-curdling moan echoed through the dark forest. When Link turned around to look, he saw the knife had sunken deep into the forehead of a rotting skeleton— a rotting skeleton that had come to life.

"What in Farore's name!" Caedmon back-peddled and loaded his longbow.

Link drew his sword and relaxed his muscles. Two Stalfos— one with the dagger jutting from its head— advanced on him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a third foe rounding on Caedmon, who was helplessly firing arrows into its ribcage.

"Arrows are useless! You have to destroy the head!" Link yelled.

"Destroy the head?" Caedmon echoed.

"Yeah! And not just sever it— crush it, burn it, blow it up!"

The old knight flung his bow to the side in favor of his sword. Link turned to face the two Stalfos— blades raised above their heads— who had their dark, eyeless sockets set on him.

"It's been too long." Link laughed, and charged forward to greet the enemy.

The sound of clanking metal reverberated through the trees. Link made sure to keep both Stalfos within his line of vision. The skeletons always wielded a jagged, rusty blade in their right hands and large circular shields in their left. Link, left handed, knew he had this to his advantage, and kept an angle of pursuit on the enemies such that the two were never in striking distance at the same time.

Link and the Stalfos circled each other, occasionally making quick, threatening swipes with their swords only to retreat backwards and continue to circle. The young Hylian's heart pounded and he felt oddly exhilarated. "Come on," he goaded the enemy, "Come and have a go!"

Something inside Link snapped. Something he hadn't felt in five years. It was like a beast awakening inside him, taking control over his body and mind. Time slowed to crawl and he saw every swipe, every move of the enemy seconds before they happened. Finally, the Stalfos closest to Link— the one with the dagger blade still lodged in its forehead— lunged too far, exposing his backside for a moment— and a moment was all Link needed.

In one swift motion Link dove forward under the reach of the Stalfos and quickly spun around, in a whirlwind of blade and shield, to sever the skeleton's head. The dismembered skull moaned as it tumbled over roots and branches.

Link racked his brain for some way to destroy the head before it could reattach to its skeletal body wandering aimlessly beside its enraged partner. He didn't have any bombs, bombchus, bomb flowers... _something like a bomb, something like fire, something... Din's Fire!_

He dodged a strike from the second Stalfos and advanced on the furious skull bouncing toward its body. Link's fingers wrapped tightly around the ruby-studded handle of the Kokiri blade. The Stalfos' head gnashed its rotten teeth and sneered in the young Hylian's face, but Link only laughed. He closed his eyes and thought of Power— power over his enemy, power with his blade, the power of the goddess Din— and his dagger began to glow red hot. In a matter of seconds, the Stalfos' skull was set ablaze by Link's triumphant use of the spell, and as the head melted away, its helpless body collapsed into a pile of rotten bones on the floor.

"A little help here, Link!" A voice cried out.

Link spun around. The second Stalfos he'd been facing had turned its attention onto Caedmon, slowly backing up into the brook. Without hesitation, the young Hylian concentrated his energy into another bit of magic he had mastered, Nayru's Love.

A blue, sleek force field appeared like a shield surrounding Caedmon. The Stalfos' blunt blade cut through the air, collided with the barrier, and shattered. The skeleton let out a roar of anger. He and his partner rounded on Link once more.

"Come on, you sons of bitches, come and get me," Link heckled the Stalfos. Three he could handle, two he battled in his sleep.

The Stalfos' fallen, headless comrade lay in a pile of charred, disheveled bones behind Link. Shields raised, the Stalfos charged. Link, on the balls of his feet, spun to the side. Before the Stalfos had a chance to turn around again, Link twirled through the air, his sword charged with the power of Din's Fire, for a deadly Spin Attack and dislodged the two skulls.

Concentrating, Link summoned the fiery charm one last time. He drove his hand into the dirt, and a dome of fire enveloped the young Hylian and the bodies of the two remaining Stalfos. The skulls disintegrated into ash. With one last cry of pain and rage, the skeletons dropped their swords and fell to their headless knees. Their screams echoed through the woods, reverberating off the trees, until they died on the still air...

Link's heart raced. He sunk to the forest floor, drawing hurried breaths through his dry mouth. He still gripped his sword tightly in his left palm. He almost forgot that he wasn't alone.

After a few long seconds of silence, Link slowly clamored to his knees and sheathed his sword. "Caedmon?" Link called, but heard no answer.

"Caedmon..." Link wheeled around and, to his surprise, almost impaled himself on the tip of an arrow. An arrow protruding from the tip of the old knight's longbow.

"Woah..." Link blinked, staring down the long wooden shaft. "What's this about?"

Caedmon, blue eyes pointedly narrowed on the young Hylian, barked, "It's time for you to start talking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: If you can drop a quick comment on your what your initial thoughts were of Caedmon (Interesting, pathetic, annoying, sympathetic, unsympathetic... whatever), I'd greatly appreciate it. I really want to chronicle how feelings change toward him from this chapter to the next.
> 
> Scarlett


	9. Chapter 9

The instant Caedmon crossed the threshold of the cabin, he grabbed Link by the shoulders and spun the young Hylian around to face him. "You've been playing me for a fool if you expect me to believe what you did back there was nothing!" His voice shook with fury and a hint of fright. "No way someone who's not a trained Hylian knight can fight like that! You've been lying to me this whole time!"

"Hold on." Link held up his hands.

"I will not!" Caedmon boomed and slammed his bow down on the rickety wooden table. "Not another moment!"

"Caedmon," Link backtracked, trying to be the voice of reason. He suddenly felt significantly shorter than the old knight. "I swear I've never lied to you."

"Bullshit," Caedmon spat.

"It's the truth. I'm not a knight." His cool, steady gaze fixated on the old man's eyes which danced with rage.

"All evidence to the contrary," the old man sneered. His eyes narrowed.

"Listen, Caedmon..." Link sighed, rolled his shoulders back, and looked up toward the ceiling. He suddenly felt like there was a Goron sitting on his chest. "I'll tell you everything you want to know. I'll tell you how I learned to fight, where I came from, and most importantly, why I'm here. I won't, however, guarantee you'll like, or even believe, my answers."

"I'll be the judge of that," Caedmon insisted, arms folded across his chest.

"Very well." Link swallowed. Firelight flickered against the old man's silvery hair and made the dark creases under his eyes appear more sunken. Adrenaline coursed through Link. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest. Finally, after everything he'd been through since Saria gave him the medallion... he reached the moment that would change the lives of both the old woodsman and himself for better or for worse.

"How about we sit down?" Link suggested, motioning toward the fireplace. Caedmon wavered for a second, but eventually nodded and drew a chair close to the fire. Link removed his bow, quiver, and sheath, grabbed the lone stool from beside the table, and sat with his elbows propped on his knees. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, and sent a silent prayer to Farore for strength. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he began with a question. "So, Sir Caedmon Aelstan, what do you want to know about me?"

"Let's start with who you are exactly," the old knight grunted, "and where you come from."

"I'm afraid," Link smiled darkly, "none of these answers are going to be simple." His gaze never wandered from Caedmon's face. The young Hylian spoke with a calm tone of sincerity. "For starters," he began, "I don't know where I was born. See, I never knew my parents, but I grew up in the Lost Woods. Before that... I don't know."

Caedmon leaned back in his seat, brow furrowed in skepticism. "The Lost Woods? But that's not..."

"Possible?" Link cut him off. "Caedmon, if you can't even believe that, you really won't believe what comes next. Just think about earlier today at the fairy fountain. I knew I could find a healing fairy, because I'd been to that fountain before... how else would I have known about it?"

"But you couldn't have survived in the forest as a child. Not without parents."

"That's because..." Link paused. They had reached the first hurdle - the first reason why the young Hylian's life had been anything but normal. "I grew up in the Kokiri Forest... ever heard of it?"

"I... don't believe I..."

"Most Hylians think it's only a legend," Link slowly unveiled, "that deep within the the forest lives a mysterious tribe of children who never grow up."

"That's not..." Caedmon started again but held his tongue. Link could tell the woodsman wanted to protest further, but abandoned the fight, knowing what the answer would be. After a moment's silence, the young Hylian continued.

"The Great Deku Tree, the guardian of the forest, protects the Kokiri. They live in a sacred village only two Hylians have ever beheld... my mother and I."

"But I've lived in this forest for twenty-five years." Caedmon lips curled into a deep frown. He seemed clearly uncomfortable. "How could I have not known or seen this, err... Kokiri Forest?"

"You didn't know about fairies either..." Link retorted. "There are some mysteries in the forest that can only be solved by those who already know how."

"That doesn't make any—"

"—Sense?" Link finished Caedmon's thought. "Ancient magic protects the forest's most innocent - the fairies, the Kokiri. First off, a Hylian is not likely to penetrate the Lost Woods deep enough to cross paths with Kokiri, and even if someone did come close to the village, it's protected by magic. If you ever drew near enough, you would've either forgotten why you were there and turned away, or possibly not been able to see it at all."

"Then how come your mother found it?" Caedmon pressed. "Why didn't the magic work against her?"

"Because my mother was aided by another form of magic - one of the most ancient strains, one even more powerful than the Great Deku Tree's..."

"And what power would that be?"

"Love," Link said candidly and watched as Caedmon's skeptical glare melted away. "Her love for me."

"Hmm," Caedmon could only muster a grunt. He appeared to deflate before Link's eyes like a balloon. The power of the word 'love' alone created a dramatic shift in the old woodsman's mannerisms. A distant, melancholy expression glossed over the old knight's face, and replaced his accusatory glare.

"So, if I'm following you so far..." he painstakingly reasoned, "You grew up in the Lost Woods, in the Kokiri Forest place, because your mother left you in the care of a tree?"

"More or less..." Link agreed.

"And then your mother..." Caedmon swallowed hard. "She died?"

The young Hylian nodded. "I never knew her."

Caedmon's mind seemed to drift to a distant place. His blue eyes fixated on the dancing flames in the fireplace. "I'm sorry..." he mumbled.

"Don't be," Link hastily assured the old knight. His heart raced faster, knowing how close to the real truth he tip-toed. "She sacrificed herself trying to protect me. Her dying wish was for the Great Deku Tree to take me in, keep me safe, give me a life, a home... she was mortally wounded, there was no way for her, no hope..."

"And the tree granted her wish?"

Link shifted uncomfortably, remembering his early childhood challenges and the daily ridicule he faced for being different. "As best he could, at least." Link responded honesty. "See, as I mentioned earlier, the Kokiri are a race of children who never grow up, so in order to blend in, I couldn't either. The Great Deku Tree placed a binding spell on me that prevented me from aging beyond eleven years old. Problem was, though, despite the fact I knew no other life, I never felt like I fit in with the Kokiri... I just thought and felt differently about things than my friends: my curiosity about the world beyond the forest, the doubts I had about the Great Deku Tree..."

Link paused again. They had reached the second major hurdle - a piece of information vital for Caedmon to comprehend in order to accept the whole truth. "I lived as a Kokiri," Link said delicately, "for what I guess now was around thirty years..."

"Thirty years?" Caedmon repeated, eyes wide with curiosity and disbelief. "But, you... you're not a day older than seventeen."

"In appearance, no," Link conceded, "but in terms of years, how long I've been alive... I know now I was born sometime during the Civil War."

"That's im..."

"—Possible?" Link finished Caedmon's thought. "I've experienced so much impossibles in my life, nothing surprises me anymore."

Caedmon held his head in his hands and massaged his forehead. "You're telling me a magical tree placed a spell on you that kept you from aging. Forgive me if that's hard to believe."

"Well, that's the funny thing about Time," Link reasoned. "Most view it as something linear, something completely consistent - but that's not true. See, Time is more like a river— the current changes constantly. You can move up and down the stream— but it never stands still."

"But you're not eleven anymore." The old knight stated the obvious, clearly grasping for some truth he could visibly comprehend. "Did something... happen?"

"A Gerudo sorcerer invaded the forest and cursed the Great Deku Tree," Link explained. "I tried to save him, but it was too late. The Great Deku Tree died and the bond connecting me to the forest spirits severed. That's when I left the woods for the first time, and I guess around then began to age like a normal Hylian... though I didn't know it at the time."

Caedmon didn't seem entirely convinced. His expression was a mix of shock, confusion, and wonder. Link couldn't blame the old knight. Only a handful of people knew Link's story, and all of them were witnesses to parts of it. For someone who didn't know, who hadn't been there... Link knew his story defied all conventional logic. "I know you probably have many more questions about me, but I've told you what you need to know in order to understand why I'm here."

Link drew a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. "Caedmon, what I have to tell you next will not be easy for you to hear, but I owe the truth to both of us."

The old knight nodded grimly. Link took the encouragement as a sign to continue. "I want to tell you about my mother," he started slowly, allowing Caedmon a chance to recoil. When he did not, Link pressed onward. "Along my journey, I had a vision about her and how she died..."

Caedmon shifted uncomfortably and sunk deeper into his seat. A moment of silence fell before the young Hylian continued delicately, "That was the first, and only, time I've ever seen her. She was running from something, or someone, and was dying. My guess is that she ran into the woods to flee her pursuers."

The old knight seemed to have forgotten Link's presence. He stared into the flames as if in a trance.

"A Kokiri girl," Link pressed on, "was alerted to the strange Hylian presence by the spirits of the wood. She raced death to reach my mother first, and when the Kokiri child reached her, she led my mother to the Great Deku Tree's Meadow, where she made her dying wish to ensure my safety... then, after the guardian obliged, she passed away."

Link paused to collect his thoughts. He'd never been that completely transparent with anyone, let alone someone he barely knew. _But Caedmon wasn't just anyone,_ Link reminded himself. The old knight held the answers to the mysteries of Link's past... and he was only a confession away.

Link drew a few short, painful breaths and continued, "I've lived through a grown man's worst nightmares. I've gazed into the eyes of my enemy as I plunged my sword into his temple. I've commanded Time and lived multiple lives in a fraction of one, but I've never known where I come from, never known the pleasures of home. I returned to the woods years ago hoping to find comfort and peace, but both continued to evade me. I remained there, however, until a few days ago when a token of my past caught up to me— the first shred of tangible evidence that I had a life before the forest."

Link reached into his pocket for the green silk-wrapped medallion, held it to his lips and planted a small kiss on its surface before presenting to Caedmon, who still had not lifted his blank gaze from the flame. "The Kokiri girl who found my mother in the woods," Link pressed, searching the old knight's sapphire eyes, "was my friend Saria. She presented this token to me just over a week ago, and I set off at once to discover its origins."

Caedmon glanced at the green silk, frozen to his seat. Link gingerly unwrapped the fabric to reveal the sparkling medallion beneath. The figures of the dog and bird seemed to come alive in the firelight.

"The symbol on the front is the family crest of the Adalmund family - the family of the former Duke and Duchess of Faron." Link's fingers trembled with nervous excitement as he explained. "My friend Zelda and I traveled to Ordon to meet with Lord Gustaf and Lady Evelyn, the current Duke and Duchess, who, as I understand it, are old friends of yours..."

Still Caedmon said nothing, though his glossy gaze had wandered from the fire's embers to the little golden token in Link's open palm.

"It was Lady Evelyn who recognized the medallion," Link gently eased his way into every word, "as a trinket belonging to the women of the court, a sort of marker of high standing they used to wear. This one, she confirmed, belonged to a young woman... a young woman named Lydia Adalmund Aelstan."

Link held his breath and waited for the wave of emotion to wash over Caedmon. He braced himself for any and all possible reactions... but none came. No outburst of pain, joy, or anger— no flurry of accusations or threats— just Sir Caedmon Aelstan looking like he'd just been clubbed over the head.

"You set up camp in the forest," Link reasoned, "because it was the last place your wife was sighted. You held out hope that somehow she survived. Well, I'm sorry to say, she did not. Lady Lydia Aelstan died thirty years ago at the end of the Civil War... but I survived. I survived because of her."

Caedmon finally reacted to those words. He stood up and turned his back on the young Hylian and strode across the room. "You said this medallion belonged to your mother," he muttered.

"Yes." Link nodded, bracing himself.

"And you believe Lydia Aelstan to be her?"

"I am sure of it..." Link trailed off.

Caedmon's shoulders slumped. He wearily messaged his temples, allowing Link's words to hang in the air for a second before he grumbled, "Then get out."

"Sorry?" Link's eyes narrowed.

Caedmon wheeled around, fists clenched. "First you come here and impede on my hospitality. Then you feed me that cock'n bull story of yours. Then you drag Lyd—" He choked and stumbled over the name, "— _her_ into this. How dare you use an old man like that! How dare you dredge up..."

Caedmon, shaking with fury, turned his back on Link again. He continued to stammer incoherent phrases like "Not possible," and, "She never..."

The young Hylian stood slowly and backed away from the old knight as quietly as he could. He slipped his quiver, bow, and sheath over his shoulder, but paused before he turned toward the door.

"Keep the medallion, Caedmon," Link said firmly and set the glittering golden token down, face-up, on the rickety table. He eyed the old man, at the foot of the unmade bed with his back turned on the musty room, one last time. He could swear he heard the old knight sob.

"I feel terrible for causing you such grief," Link admitted. "I didn't come here to cause you pain. I just wanted you to know..." the young Hylian swallowed, "that I exist. I felt like I owe you that."

"Just get—"

"I'm gone," Link whispered before Caedmon could finish his thought, and slipped through the door into the night.

* * *

Zelda stared at the bronze double doors leading into the Great Hall. Shallow reliefs adorned the panels, depicting scenes from the founding of Hyrule and the forging of the four provinces— Gorons, Zora, and Hylians united under one banner. On the other side of the walls, the sound of the minstrels tuning their instruments intermixed with lords and ladies chatting on the way to their seats.

The princess shifted her weight from side to side, gazing nervously down the long dark corridors for her father. He was late. _He was never late._ Zelda's palms dampened with worry. She mindlessly straightened her skirts, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. _He probably had some urgent business to take care of, something last-minute, something..._

But her father had not been acting normal for days, which really had the princess on edge, even before the breakdown in his office...

Just before she turned to call on someone, Zelda spotted her father walking slowly and heavily down the corridor to her right. He looked dreadful. His skin looked sallow, his eyes glossy and swollen. The dark creases under his eyes had magnified in scale and intensity.

"Father," Zelda gasped. "What's wrong? Where were you?" She lightly caressed his shoulder and the king winced.

"I-I.." he stuttered, lowered his gaze, and shook his head. "I don't remember..."

"You don't remember?" Zelda rested her gloved hand on her father's cheek and sought the king's eyes. "Talk to me."

He drew short wheezy breaths. "The Middleton girl..." he muttered almost incoherently.

"Mercy?" Zelda pressed.

"I went to check on her and... she..."

"Father, what's happened?" Zelda asked calmly, trying to soothe the shaken monarch. "Has something happened to Mercy?"

"Sweetheart..." the king croaked. His head slumped. "She's gone."

"Gone?" Zelda gasped. "How?"

"Disappeared..." the king's voice trailed. He winced again and stumbled forward, reaching out for Zelda's shoulder to stabilize himself. She caught him beneath his arms, and tried to ease him to the ground, but the king was twice her size. The princess' legs buckled under the weight, and she fell to her knees. Blood stained her hands and the front of her gown, or was it blood... _it was black!_

"Help!" Zelda screamed, "I need a healer!" Her cries echoed down the empty corridors.

"I went to check on her..." The king continued to mumble. His eyes lolled from side to side. "And she was gone... and then... I don't..."

"Shh, don't speak..." Zelda used the train of her sleeve to dab sweat from the king's forehead. "Somebody help!" She called again, but to no avail. Thinking fast, the Princess unfastened the king's red velvet cape and strenuously rolled him onto it to examine the wound.

"Tell Amery," The king shook as he muttered. "She should know..."

"Oh, please lie still, father," Zelda begged. The king's emerald-studded crown lay at her knees. The princess picked it up, flung it against the bronze doors, and cried again, "Somebody please, the king has fallen!"

Thick, black blood soaked through the back of the king's surcoat, spreading from a deep gash on his lower back. Zelda slipped a ruby-hilted dagger from her father's hip pocket and sliced through the thick garment to examine it. Purple tendrils spread outward from the wound, like roots on a tree, growing at an alarming rate in both scope and intensity.

"Oh my..." Zelda gasped. She had never seen anything like it.

"Please, rise!" A man announced from beyond the wall. "Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Zelda and His Majesty King Auberon II."

Finally, the doors eased open, filling the long, dark corridor with candlelight. The quartet of minstrels strummed their normal lively tune to a chorus of applause, but the sight of the fallen king, the princess hunched over his limp body, quickly snuffed the celebration.

Zelda heard a few screams, hundreds of chairs shuffling, a crowd closing in on her, but she paid them no attention. Instead, the princess removed her stained gloves and placed her hand over the wound. A warm energy channeled through her fingertips, and an orb of golden light enveloped the gash. For a moment, her magic seemed to work. The open skin closed back together, and the orb of light soaked up the long, purple tendrils like a sponge, until— when the wound was nearly closed - the orb shattered and repelled the princess backward. The king let out a painful cry, and his body convulsed for a few seconds before falling into a heap.

Time slowed to a crawl. Blood soaked through the princess' skirts and trickled through the cracks in the stone floor. Soldiers rushed forward to control the crowd closing in around the king.

"Stand aside!" A deep, throaty voice yelled. "Give him room!"

"Let the healers through!" Another knight called.

Three figures entered the circle— be-speckled old Arnaldus Goodleve, the castle physician and surgeon, a long-haired Sheikah apothecary named Jotham, and His High Holiness Faisal Aloysius, the High Priest. Each swooped in and began administering treatment via his own practices. As Arnaldus attempted to wrap the wound and stifle the bleeding, Jotham sifted through a few spare potion vials he kept on hand, and Faisal circled the king's body, waving his arms and muttering prayers to drive demons from his soul.

"This isn't going to work," Zelda muttered, still on the ground. "He's been poisoned. It's repelling my magic!" She yelled, but no one listened.

"Princess, give the healers some room," Grand Master Bourdekin instructed as he observed the scene with forlorn eyes. He had been the knight commander under her father for twenty years.

"Your Grace..." a cold hand wrapped around Zelda's forearm and pulled her to her feet. It was Impa. Her expressionless red eyes examined the blood-soaked princess. "What happened?" she asked, resting her hands on Zelda's shoulders.

"I-I'm not sure." Zelda dropped her gaze. "He said he went to check on Mercy Middleton and she was gone, just gone. After that... someone must have attacked him."

"And you couldn't heal him?" A hint of disbelief crept into the Sheikah's voice.

"No..." A painful mixture of embarrassment and helplessness washed over the princess. "The wound is infused with dark magic."

"A dark magic that makes you forget the face of your attacker..." Impa folded her arms across her chest, deep in thought. "This is a most disturbing turn of events..."

Lords and ladies prayed aloud, some wept, some stood and watched solemnly, their eyes and hands quavering in shock. The doctors continued to pour over her father's limp body to no avail, and Zelda watched helplessly as the King's life drained away. The cursed wound's purple tendrils wrapped their way through the veins on his hands, neck, and up to his face...

"I can't do this!" Zelda burst out and lunged into the circle. "He must know something."

A few ladies gasped at the Princess' sudden outpouring of emotion, but no one dared break the circle. Sir Bourdekin opened his mouth to protest, but he, too, could not deny the princess access to her ailing father.

Zelda marched up behind the working healers and tapped Arnaldus Goodleve on the shoulder. "Stand aside," she commanded, hands on her hips.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," he seemed surprised, "but we don't have time for..."

"That was not a suggestion, sir," Zelda insisted. Arnaldus' magnified eyes grew even larger, but he bowed his head and instructed the others to back away from the king's body.

"Thank you," Zelda replied, though she could still hear the three medics muttering as she knelt in the pool of black blood beside her father. Zelda placed a small kiss on the king's forehead, whispered a quick prayer to Nayru, and cleared her mind— pushing back the noise, the crowd, and the medics buzzing behind her. Then, with her eyes closed, the princess placed her thumb and forefinger on the old king's temples and plunged herself into her father's fading subconscious.

Darkness ensnared her— a cursed darkness that stretched on endlessly. It felt like jumping into a frozen lake. The presence of the curse grew stronger by the second. Zelda resisted the urge to scream and pressed deeper, searching for some remnants of her father's soul.

 _Please, Father,_ her voice echoed through the darkness. If you're still in there, I must know what happened.

Nothing... The poison penetrated much deeper than the princess anticipated. She lunged forward, searching for a small sign of life, but the darkness lashed back, fighting to expel Zelda's light aura - the power of the Triforce of Wisdom.

 _It's all right, Father._ Zelda reached out. _It's me... It's your Zelda._

Then somewhere in the darkness— the despair and the hopelessness— the princess felt a flicker of warmth. _I'm here!_ She called, and the aura grew stronger. _I need to know what happened to you. I must. It's the only way to protect our kingdom!_

The curse fought to retain its hold on its prey. Zelda winced as the darkness pushed her away. She called again, _Be strong, Father! Be strong and show me what happened, if you cannot speak of it. Think about it with all your heart, and I will see it too..._

The light aura faded, and the darkness chipped away at the last remnants of the king's weakened spirit. Before it could entirely repel the princess, however, Zelda caught glimpses of a few images, the last memories of the old king, and the only information he could offer her.

It was the medical ward. She saw an empty bed with the sheets tossed carelessly aside. A dark cloaked figure stood in the windowsill, laughing, with a limp body draped over his shoulder.

 _Come on, Father, a face, a name, a voice..._ she encouraged in one last desperate attempt to hold on to her father's presence.

In the corner of the room, Zelda caught a flash of a pale figure with long dark hair and icy blue eyes, twisting a bloody purple knife in his black-gloved hand. It was all she needed.

 _Thank you, Father..._ Her voice echoed. She mustered her last bit of strength and yelled, _I love you, so much..._

The connection shattered.

Zelda gasped as she tumbled backwards, fighting for breath. She clutched her forehead, which burned with blinding pain, and felt the strong, familiar arms of the woman who raised her draw her close.

"I know who did it. I know who attacked the king!" Zelda stammered. She flung her arms around Impa's neck, and cried.

"Your Grace..." the Sheikah whispered and stroked Zelda's hair.

Silence swept through the hall, pierced only by a few scattered sobs. The healers continued to poke and prod the king's body, but Zelda knew the fight had ended. King Auberon II of Hyrule, her father, had been slain.

"We'll overcome this," Impa spoke softly in Zelda's ear as she held her. "We will."

"I know..." Zelda choked, trying to sound certain. But inside fear paralyzed her— fear for Mercy Middleton, wherever she may be, fear for the kingdom, and for her people. What she saw in the dark recesses of the king's fading mind instilled a sort of fear in her that she hadn't felt in five years.

She knew who attacked the king, and it wasn't whom she initially suspected...

* * *

Caedmon opened his eyes. He didn't know how long he'd been lying there— on the cold dirt floor of his cramped hunting cabin. The old knight sat up, shook his head, and gazed absentmindedly around the only home he'd known for twenty-five years, nearly half of his life... the half he'd spent waiting to die. Or perhaps just waiting... and waiting.

He first came to the forest after years of searching for her— his precious Lydia— combing through mountains and deserts, turning every town and village inside out, hoping she'd found safety somewhere and was just waiting for him to find her... But every minute trace of evidence he gathered pointed him back to the forest.

First, it was the words of local villagers who recalled seeing a woman flee into the think canopy of trees. Then it was a scrap of cloth, green silk, ensnared on a thorn bush, and then it was her horse— long since dead and left to decay on the forest floor.

His friends told him to forget about her and move on. All evidence suggested that everything Caedmon had in life fled into the forest and was lost for eternity. That's what the evidence suggested... but he had no definitive proof, and the lack of certainty drove him to madness and isolation. No matter how hard, how long, he sifted through the forest, he found no trace of Lydia— not a sign that she was either dead or alive... So he held out hope.

Caedmon closed his eyes and, for the millionth time since that fateful night, replayed the events through. Only this time a different picture emerged... one with a concrete ending.

_They came up from the underground— an army of thieves, Gerudo, outlaws, and pirates, who had turned against the crown. Many of them just wanted to see Hyrule burn. They ignited bombs in corridors, set fire to draperies, and smashed ancient glass windows with seemingly no goal in sight. Except for one man..._

_Sir Gustaf de Vaux noticed a band of thieves streaking across the grounds with a group of women — including Lydia, Princess Cordelia, Lady Evelyn, and a half dozen others— in tow. Gustaf and Caedmon tracked them over the ridge, backed up by Sir Carnell Bourdekin and his regiment._

_Curiously, the enemy— a group of tall, pale skinned, distinctly non-Hylian individuals— led the women into the Temple of Time, allowing Carnell's men to barricade the exits. Gustaf and Caedmon went ahead inside, where the thieves had gathered around the altar near the front of the basilica. Caedmon crept through the shadows along the right side of the interior colonnade, while Gustaf took the left side. They remained silent and watched the proceedings carefully, waiting for the safest moment to strike._

_"You know how to open the door!" The man at the front of the group, decked from head to toe in black armor, commanded. His voice shook the stone temple walls. "You have the key!" He grabbed the princess by her forearm and threw her against the altar. The other women screamed. Lydia— clutching a bundle tightly to her chest— fell to her knees beside the fallen royal._

_The man unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Princess Cordelia. "The Ocarina of Time, your Highness..." He held out his open palm. "I'm growing tired of asking..."_

_Lydia whispered something in the princess' ear. The man's black-gloved hand quivered with rage, and the corners of his mouth twisted into a devilish sneer. "Silence! You filthy Hylian wretch!" He turned his sword on Lydia, who instantly tensed and backed away._

_Caedmon's heart lurched forward. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he restrained himself. He didn't want to jeopardize Lydia's safety by charging forward hastily._

_"What if," the leader of the thieves hissed and turned to face the other women, each bound tightly within the arms of a thief, "I start cutting apart your little court." He licked his lips. "Bit by bit. It would be such a shame..." He drew very close to the face of Lady Evelyn who recoiled and turned away. "...To spill such beautiful blood."_

_His icy blue eyes lingered lustfully a second longer on Evelyn, before he turned his attention back toward Lydia— whispering softly to her tiny bundle. A bone-chilling laugh echoed through the hall. "What do we have here?" The foreigner reached for the blanket, but Lydia pulled away, flashing the man a look of deepest loathing._

_"A little touchy, aren't we?" The man snickered. He leaned in closer and pressed the edge of his blade against her neck. "What if I start with this one?"_

_"No!" Caedmon snapped and charged forward. Sir Carnell's men poured into the nave from the main entrance and side aisles. The foreigners realized they were surrounded, and scattered._

_"Stand your ground, fools!" The black-armored man commanded. He set his eyes on the Princess and tore toward the altar, thrashing and clawing his way through Sir Carnell's men closing in on him. "Get to the princess... Get the ocarina!"_

_"Lydia!" Caedmon yelled as he reached his wife, crouched beside the altar with princess Cordelia. A few rivulets of blood trickled from a small cut on the side of her neck, but she seemed relatively unharmed. "Don't scare me like that," he sighed, wiped a sweaty blonde curl from her face, and placed a small kiss on her forehead._

_"Sorry sweetheart." She smiled weakly and gave Caedmon's hand a reassuring squeeze._

_A bomb exploded behind the altar, sending a shower of rubble into the air. Caedmon shielded his wife and the Princess from the falling debris. Lydia pressed her sleeping bundle closer to her breast. "Gustaf, Caedmon!" Sir Bourdekin barked as the dust settled. "Get the women out of here!"_

_Caedmon nodded, wrapped his right arm around his wife's waist, and tightly squeezed the hilt of his sword in his left hand. The man in black armor had been disarmed and brought to his knees by the lieutenant's men. With the princess slightly out in front, he ushered the two women back toward the right colonnade. Gustaf took the others with him through the left side exit._

_"Get her! Stop the princess!" The man roared from his knees. "She has it. She has the Ocarina!" But the thieves had been disbanded and sent running for their lives._

_Caedmon directed Lydia and Princess Cordelia through the barricade and out into the burning, chaotic streets of the market. Men and women ran down the alleys screaming, juggling their belongings as they darted for the drawbridge. Crying children clung desperately to their mothers' skirts, and a thick cloud of smoke and ash hid the moon and stars from view._

_"Let's get you two back to the castle," Caedmon suggested, but Lydia had other plans._

_"No, Caedmon." She pulled away. "We need to get to the stables."_

_"But it's on the edge of the grounds," he reasoned. "You'll be much safer inside the castle walls."_

_Lydia fixed him with a pleading stare. "It's important," she whispered._

_Princess Cordelia nodded in agreement, but said nothing. Caedmon realized the two had something planned, something he couldn't talk them out of. "Let's go then," he reluctantly sighed, and led the way back toward the castle. The trio stopped for nothing until they reached the stables on the edge of the grounds._

_"Prepare any horse that's fit to ride!" Lydia ordered a young stablehand, cowering in the corner. The boy wiped his eyes and squeaked a weak "Yes Milady." His hands shook as he lifted a saddle off the door of a stall and draped it over the back of a palomino mare._

_Caedmon watched silently as his wife turned to face the princess, who unpinned her green silk cloak and wrapped it around Lydia's shoulders._

_"What are you doing?" Caedmon's voice quavered as it returned to him. "What's going on?"_

_"I'm going to Ordon." His wife stated with conviction as the princess fastened Lydia's own golden broach onto the cloak._

_"Wearing that?" Caedmon's eyes grew wide. "But the rebels... they might..." A sudden wave of realization washed over the knight. When Lydia pulled the hood of the emerald cloak over her head, she looked eerily similar to the princess. No one, not even Prince Auberon, would know the difference on horseback. "Lydia," Caedmon stammered, "this is too dangerous."_

_"Sweetheart, I must." Lydia looked guiltily away. "You need to take the princess to safety."_

_"I'll take you both to safety." He grabbed his wife by the shoulders, spun her around the face him, and drew her close. The bundle in her arms, shielded by the cloak, fidgeted but made no sound._

_"No, Caedmon." Lydia shook her head sadly. "These men will not stop looking for her. I'm going to draw them away, make them think she's left town."_

_"But you're putting yourself in danger, and Estel?"_

_"He'll be fine." Another weak smile flashed across her lips. "He hasn't cried once all night. Bombs going off, men and women screaming in the streets— and he keeps right on sleeping, it's incredible..."_

_"Lydia, be serious." Caedmon attempted to put his foot down. "I'm not letting you be the bait. What if something happens to you? Then you're both gone."_

_"I'm going to flee to my parent's house in Ordon. I'll lose the man by then."_

_"I wish I had your confidence," he huffed._

_"Hey," Lydia's right hand caressed Caedmon's cheek. Her fingertips stroked the long hair on the back of his head as she reeled him in to a short, tender kiss. "It's going to be okay," she whispered. "I need you to make sure the princess makes it into hiding with the ocarina. Its safety is far more important than mine."_

_Caedmon shook his head and kissed his wife once more..._ No it wasn't, _he thought,_ Not to him. The enemy could have the stupid instrument for all he cared.

_"I'll meet you at my parents' house in Ordon," she promised as she pulled away and handed the sleeping baby to Caedmon. The stablehand sniffed, pulled over a stool, and helped ease his wife into the saddle. From her horseback perch, Lydia smiled as she looked down at Caedmon, the firelight from the burning castle twinkled in her emerald eyes. "Don't worry about me," she urged and reached for Estel. Caedmon placed a soft kiss on the sleeping baby's cheek and, reluctantly, passed him off to his mother._

_The stablehand led the mare from the stall. Caedmon walked alongside his wife until they reached the end of the long row of stables. The town burned in the valley below and the castle behind them. Lydia breathed a heavy sigh and turned once more to face her husband. "Do not fear for me, my love. We must do our part to protect Hyrule, to fulfill our oath to the Crown... I love you."_

_Those were her last words to him. She nudged the palomino in the sides and took off down the slope, heading straight toward the chaotic streets and clouds of smoke. Lydia Aelstan... the love of his life, his precious wife, and mother to his infant son, was never heard from again._

Suddenly, it all made sense... it all fit.

Her pursuers chased her to the edge of the forest... her horse died... she had been wounded. He recalled the way Link illustrated the scene of his mother crawling through the brush, fighting death to save her child— _That was Lydia..._ it had to be. His brave, sweet, beautiful Lydia who risked her life to fulfill her oath to the Princess and subsequently sacrificed herself to save her son... their son... _his son._

Pale, warm morning light crept in through the cracks in the ramshackle cabin's walls. The world seemed to spin around him. His heart raced, and he had difficulty breathing.

Caedmon remembered the day his son was born— a frostbitten spring night, four years into the Civil War. Lydia gave birth in the circular bedchamber they shared when he was granted leave, and they named him Estel, after the brightest star in the sky... Estel Adalmund Aelstan— a son of knights and nobles.

Caedmon absentmindedly watched dust particles dance in the rays of sunlight as he thought more about that day. _Had it really been thirty years?_ Caedmon massaged his forehead. He recalled what Link had said only hours earlier.

_"I lived as a Kokiri, for what I guess now was around thirty years..."_

It all seemed so impossible, everything the boy told him. The Great something Tree and the village of children— Caedmon would have known about it. He lived in the forest for twenty-five years. Link was a boy, a child, he couldn't possibly be...

But Caedmon stopped himself.

He remembered the fight in the woods, with the skeletons, or stalfos things. The way the kid, Link, talked with such conviction, and the way he fought— with a sense of confidence that can only be derived from experience— made the young lad's story, as unbelievable as it sounded the first time, not so far-fetched the more Caedmon thought it out.

If he was really raised in the Lost Woods, then this kid, Link... _it fit._ He could really be that very same tiny baby— the one who never cried— that his brave, sweet Lydia died to protect. More than anything, that morsel of Link's story fit with everything Caedmon remembered about that terrible night. Link's description of Lydia, his account of her sacrifice, was so like her.

Estel Adalmund Aelstan was the name he and Lydia gave their baby boy one cold, spring night four years into the war. Link was a young man of unflappable courage and great mystery, who obviously endured terrible suffering along his rocky path through life. Could those two— that innocent baby, and that mysterious young man— really be one and the same?

Caedmon felt numb. For so many years, he searched for a sign that he hadn't lost the only two things that mattered to him on that fateful night thirty years ago. Instead, hope came to him in the form of a young man with Lydia's blond hair and his own blue eyes— a young man who grew up in the Lost Woods, knew magic, and fought like no man or demon he'd ever seen before... and Caedmon let that young man walk away. _What was he doing?_

The old knight leapt to his feet, grabbed his sword from the end of the bed, and slung it over his shoulder as he bolted out the threshold into the dew-covered forest. _Would the kid have left already?_ Caedmon's eyes combed through the branches and bushes, as he skipped over roots and dipped beneath vines on a freshly traversed path toward the brook. _He couldn't have gone far. Daylight had hardly broke..._

Caedmon only traveled a few yards before he spotted the chestnut silhouette of Link's horse beside a thick pine-tree. The mare stamped her hooves and grunted as Caedmon approached, but he didn't spot Link until...

"Oww!" A painful cry reverberated off the trees. Caedmon stumbled forward as the voice continued to lament, "What in Farore's name..."

The old knight wheeled around and found Link, seated at the base of the pine, massaging his leg.

"Link," Caedmon declared with a tone of mild surprise. "What are you doing on the ground?"

"I was sleeping," the young Hylian groaned as he stood and brushed himself off.

"On the ground?"

Link rolled his eyes. "Any better suggestions?"

His jaded words stung, but Caedmon deserved them. He hadn't treated the kid right, and he knew that now. After a brief moment of silence, in which Link seemed to be waiting for some sort of explanation, the old knight sighed, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Link paused, caught off guard. "For stepping on me?"

"No..." Caedmon shifted from side to side, avoiding the young man's unbelievably steady eye contact. "For, for..."

"For what?" Link urged.

"For kicking you out," the old knight finally conceded. "For getting mad, for not believing..."

"Don't worry about it." The kid shook his head, but smiled. He seemed sincere.

"You have to understand, Link," Caedmon reasoned further. "I do want to believe you, and it's not hard for me to when I look at you. Aside from the blue eyes, you're every bit Lydia's son. It's just... not only did I expect my son to have been dead for almost thirty years, but if he were alive, to be a man by now with a family of his own. You... you're just so young."

Link stepped closer to Caedmon, so close he rested his left hand on the old knight's shoulder. "I never expect anyone to believe me," the young Hylian admitted with a bitter tone of honesty. "I resigned myself long ago to being alone in that regard. I don't want anything from you, Sir Aelstan, I don't need your approval, your acceptance, or for you to ever believe me. But you must understand, I had to come out here... if there was any chance. I couldn't just surrender all hope."

"Link, if there was any way I could've known you were still..." Caedmon choked. He couldn't maintain eye contact with the boy. It was too painful. "I looked... for years."

"There's nothing to—" Link began to say but froze suddenly. He removed his hand from Caedmon's shoulder, and the old knight's eye grew wide with wonder. The back of the kid's hand began to glow - literally glow.

Link seemed shocked for a moment. He stared blankly at the glowing symbol on the back of his hand. Caedmon couldn't see it clearly, the kid shielded his hand away from the old knight, but from the glimpse he caught, Caedmon thought it was the symbol of the legendary Triforce— a symbol he knew related not just to the royal family and the knights of Hyrule, but the very foundations of their kingdom's religion.

"I-I have to go," Link stammered and hastily stumbled back to the pine where his sword, shield, and bow were propped up against the bark.

"To go?" Caedmon repeated, trying to make sense of another sudden twist of events. "What's going on, Link? Why is your hand..."

"No time to explain now," Link cut him off. He leapt over the winding roots, hoisted a leather saddle draped over a branch onto the mare's back, and began to adjust it.

"S-so, you're just going to leave?" Caedmon gaped. His mind was spinning with new information. He didn't know how much more he could process without having to lie down.

"Sorry, Caedmon. Urgent business." Link avoided eye contact. "Something's happened at the castle. Something bad. I have to go."

"How can you possibly know what's going on at the castle?" Caedmon's brow furrowed and he folded his arms across his chest.

But all Link could muster was a weak, "I have a hunch..."

"A hunch that has to do with the Triforce glowing on the back of your hand?" The old knight gawked. _Could this kid get any more strange?_

"Something like that," the kid muttered.

"Link..." Caedmon swallowed, struggling to find the right words. "Link, I came out here because..." The old knight had built up such a thick wall around his heart, he found it difficult to voice it's desires. "I-I want you to stay, I want..."

"I _can't,_ Caedmon," Link stressed as he mounted the chestnut mare. The horse stamped her four healthy hooves eagerly, but the young Hylian pulled back on the reins. His blue eyes locked on the old knight once more, and with a hint of hope in his voice, Link asked, "Why don't you come with me?"

"What?" Caedmon felt like he'd been hit over the head.

"Come with me," Link urged. "There's nothing for you here in the woods. Come back to the castle with me. I could use you as an ally. You're a knight. You know the politics. I could use your help."

"I can't, Link," the old knight stammered stupidly. "I left the castle, that life, I couldn't..."

"I knew you would say that," the young Hylian sighed. He sounded disappointed.

"Then you understand why I can't go..."

"No, I don't," the kid stated flatly, eyes pressed on the road ahead. "I think it's cowardly, but you know where I'll be when you're ready."

And with that, nudged his mare in the side, turned her nose east and set off for Lake Hylia at a steady trot through the forest soaked in morning light.

Caedmon didn't know how long he stood there, staring at the spot where Link disappeared from sight. A warm, late-summer breeze picked up, and Caedmon closed his eyes. As he listened to the sound of the wind swirling through the branches and trees, his heartbeat returned to a normal, steady pace, and for a moment he could hear _her_ voice again, _Lydia's..._

"Go on..." it whispered, "Go on.."

Link was such a mystery— one that grew more and more strange by the second— but Caedmon wanted to know more. He wanted to know the boy. _Lydia_ would have wanted him to follow the boy... and with that Caedmon Aelstan inhaled deeply and set off to gather his things from his hunting cabin for the last time. After five years of fruitless searching, and twenty-five more of pointless isolation, the old knight was going back to Hyrule Castle.


	10. Chapter 10

The next few hours passed by in a whirlwind of tears and confusion. The castle guard escorted the nobles from the hall and began scouring the grounds for evidence, while Impa led Zelda to her chambers. The princess' ladies waited with a hot bath to wash away the black blood caked to her skin. After a change of clothes, Zelda ordered the help from the room and disclosed to Impa, the only woman in the castle she could trust, everything she had seen in the king's fading subconscious.

"We must be very careful, Your Grace." The Sheikah tapped her knuckles against her folded arms, deep in thought. "These are delicate times."

"I know," the princess nodded, "which is why I must speak with the Ten'al-tarians myself before we alert the castle guard."

"I agree," Impa said softly. The pair rose from their seats in front of the fire in Zelda's sitting room. The faint light flickered off Impa's steel armor.

"I want to speak with both the czar and the prince immediately," Zelda pressed. "Can I trust you to bring them to me?"

"As always, Your Grace." Impa bowed and turned to leave the room, but paused before reaching the door. Over her shoulder, the Sheikah's crimson eyes met the princess' own blue ones. Pride and a hint of sadness shone through. "It is your wisdom that Hyrule will need in these dark times." She smiled weakly. "I'm sure you will do our kingdom proud."

"Thank you, Impa," Zelda replied. She desperately needed to hear those words. Her eyes watered as she watched her caretaker depart.

Alone in her quarters, Zelda lifted a candlestick from the mantle and crossed the carpet toward her dressing room. Faint morning light filtered into the bath through the silk curtains. Silently, Zelda walked up to the mirror. Her unkempt hair fell past her shoulders, and dark circles formed under her eyelids. The princess who'd stood there only hours ago, prodded and pampered by maids, had vanished, and a young woman with a heavy burden took her place.

 _Odd..._ Zelda thought as she stared longer at her tired reflection. It was almost as if she'd seen that woman before— part warrior, part sorceress, a leader who worked in the shadows. Only now, she couldn't hide behind a name and face not her own. The Princess had to become a Queen.

Zelda set her candle down on the vanity and eased open the drawer containing her tiaras and circlets. She selected a ruby-studded one, pulled her hair back, and set it softly onto her forehead.

"There," she whispered to herself. "That's a start."

The time for mourning was past. Only one bloodline had ever sat upon the Hylian throne, and power immediately transferred to the next-in-line following the death of the sovereign. The fate of Hyrule once again rested in her hands.

A dreary gray light illuminated the corridors as Zelda swept from her chambers toward her father's quarters. She couldn't believe how quickly time had sifted away since the previous evening. Only knights and members of the household scurried through the halls. Zelda assumed Sir Bourdekin would have ordered a lockdown of the city immediately following the king's death.

Two guards stood watch outside her father's bedchamber. They tapped their lances on the stone floor and bowed accordingly as Zelda approached.

"I wish to see my father, please," she stated clearly, head held high.

The two guards exchanged forlorn glances, but obliged. "Of course, Your Majesty," the guard holding the keys nodded and unlocked the door, "h-he's in the bedchamber." His voice quavered as he spoke, though Zelda couldn't decipher whether it was out of fear or sadness.

"Thank you," she replied and crossed over the threshold. Cries and whispers greeted her immediately as she entered the drawing room. Barnabus Gerasim sat with his tiny feet propped up on an ottoman before the fire, howling into a handkerchief. Absalom de Caulmont and the three other Gentlemen of the Bedchamber chatted quietly amongst themselves in a dark corner away from the fire.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Zelda greeted them, but only Godric Benedict, the Master of the Hunt, mustered more than a weak, "Good morning, Your Majesty," in return. While the other three men fixed the young queen with looks of sorrow, pity, and doubt, Godric— a tall, broad-shouldered man with curly brown hair— rose from his seat and fell to one knee before Zelda.

"My sympathies cannot be conveyed, Your Majesty. I loved your father so..." He cradled Zelda's hand between his two frying-pan sized mitts, and kissed it gingerly. "Long live the Queen."

"My blessings, Master Benedict." She shook his hand and bade him to rise. "These are most uncertain times." She looked past the Master Huntsman toward the other gentlemen as she spoke. "But I promise you, justice will be served."

The men seemed to take comfort in her words— whether they believed them or not. One by one they rose from their seats, dropped to a knee, and kissed the back of Zelda's hand in a sign of loyalty.

"You have our support, Your Majesty," Absalom, the last of the men to approach the young Queen, pledged. His eyes shifted uneasily as he spoke.

"Thank you, Master de Caulmont," Zelda stated delicately. "In times such as these, Hyrule's strength lies in its ability to stand united. Now, I would like to see my father."

"He's through here, Milady." Absalom gestured toward the door in front of them. Zelda smiled weakly and bade the gentlemen goodbye. Even though the encounter went rather smoothly, she knew that her father's friends still viewed her as his flighty, dreaming daughter, too young to rule effectively.

The pungent smell of incense and burning candles overpowered Zelda as she entered the bedchamber that was already occupied by three men. Two priests hovered around the bed in the center of the room, muttering prayers and preparing the body for burial, while Sir Edmundus Ventripont, head of the Royal Guard, stood watch near the window.

"Your Majesty," they muttered, bowing as she entered. A cool breeze circulated through the room as Zelda walked up to the foot of the bed.

"Gentlemen." She raised her hand to acknowledge their pleasantries. "I'd like to have a moment alone with my father, please."

"Your Majesty," Sir Ventripont stated uneasily, "that would be most unwise from a security standpoint."

"I do not need protection," the young queen acknowledged. "I just need to be left alone for a few minutes."

"But Your Majesty..." the officer began, but Zelda cut him off. "You may stand outside if you'd like." She indicated toward the door.

Sir Ventripont opened his mouth to speak again, but recoiled and exchanged a nervous glance with the High Priest. "As you wish, Your Majesty," he grumbled and turned toward the door.

"Wait Sir Ventripont. I have one last request." Zelda called after the officer, recalling her earlier conversation with her attendant. "Alert me immediately if Mistress Impa seeks my company. That's an order of utmost importance."

"Yes, Your Highness." The officer exited the room, leaving Zelda in the spacious bedchamber with the two priests.

"I meant for everyone to leave," she said in an annoyed tone.

"But Your Highness," the High Priest implored, adjusting a little set of spectacles on the tip of his nose. "We're in the middle of a very sacred ritual..."

"Out!" She ordered, growing impatient. The chaplain almost dropped the thick, leather-bound book in his arms. Neither said another word to the young queen but muttered incoherently beneath their breaths as they followed Sir Ventripont from the bedchamber.

Finally the room was empty and silent, save for the sound of rain pattering against the stone walls outside. The king's bedroom was much like her own— luxuriant with a fireplace, balcony, and bed, only his was a large four-poster with maroon draperies. On the wall behind the bed hung a golden copy of the royal family crest, studded with glistening rubies and sapphires. Oil portraits and landscapes decorated the other walls, including one of Zelda's mother in her wedding gown.

The tired young queen leaned against the bedpost and gazed down at her father's body. He lay with his eyes closed and hands folded gracefully over his heart. He looked peaceful— much more so than he had in the last few weeks of his life. Looking back on the most recent days, Zelda thought her father had acted as if he somehow could sense the end was nigh.

 _Perhaps that's why he pushed me so hard to marry in recent months..._ She knew how he worried about the line of succession so.

Zelda swiped a cushion from a chair beneath the window, knelt beside the bed, and folded her hands in prayer. She thought back to the confrontation with her father in his office a few days earlier, and found herself speaking aloud. "Hardly two days ago, you confided in me a guilt that had been tearing you apart for sixteen years." Her eyes rested on the king's calm face, hoping somewhere her father could hear her. "You thought your sins made you unfit to rule, and that my wisdom would make me a better leader for our kingdom..."

Zelda unfolded her hands and rested them on top of the king's. Her heavy heart beat faster and faster. "Oh, father," she cried, "I couldn't tell you then why your words put me to shame, and now it is too late." Tears began to well in her eyes. Her throat knotted as she spoke. "You brushed off my transgressions as a childish error, but I made a mistake that jeopardized the future of our kingdom. I was only eleven years old."

She couldn't kneel anymore. Zelda stood and began to pace at the foot of the bed. "I had a dream about dark storm clouds spreading across the land," she painfully recalled, "but a ray of light shot out of the forest and parted them. I told you that the storm clouds symbolized the Gerudo king, Ganondorf, and I begged you to take his oath of sincerity with utmost caution..."

Zelda folded her hands behind her and turned her back on the bed. The rain fell more steadily out the window. She could hardly see the rooftops of the town below through the mist. She recalled how her relationship with her father had changed after she begged him to take her dreams seriously.

"Your gentlemen," her tone became more bitter, "made a mockery of my claims. Word spread around town about the silly princess and her prophetic dreams. Even you, my own father, brushed away my warnings as nonsense, but with each passing day the dreams grew stronger and more intense. I began to panic."

She walked over toward the chest of drawers on the far side of the room. A collection of framed pictographs sat on top of it. Zelda's hand wrapped around one of a giggling toddler with bright blonde pigtails, bouncing happily on her father's shoulders. A single tear fell from her eye and splattered on the glass surface. It was hard to believe that carefree child was her. With every day that passed since the Imprisoning War, Zelda found it harder to recall the innocence of youth.

"Only two people in the entire kingdom believed me," Zelda lamented as she set the pictograph down. "Mistress Impa, and a boy... a small boy my age, with a funny green hat and a fairy at his shoulder. I trusted that boy with everything, including many secrets of the royal family. I thought we could save Hyrule ourselves, two children, but all I did was set the stage for our kingdom's demise."

No one in Hyrule besides herself, Link, and the other Sages knew that the Sacred Realm was no more, and that the Triforce— the basis of their kingdom's religion— had split into three separate pieces. Zelda walked back toward the bed, fighting to suppress a fresh wave of tears. She did not want to cry anymore.

"All you, and most of Hyrule, for that matter, know of the story was that shortly after the raid, Ganondorf disappeared and the Gerudo fled back to the desert. It was said that the Gerudo overthrew their king, but that was a story Nabooru and I conceived to mask a terrible truth."

Zelda sighed and gaze upward into the maroon canopy hanging over the bed. Voicing her terrible mistakes aloud felt liberating. She knew her father couldn't hear her, she knew he couldn't respond, but to become the Queen, Zelda first had to accept her past failures and grow from them.

"I say all of this now," she pressed, "because Hyrule once more teeters on the precipice of destruction, and every decision I make henceforth could be our saving grace or undoing. I wanted so badly to tell you this story— to confide my greatest transgression to my father, but... I knew you wouldn't believe me." Zelda shook her head sadly.

"The second element from my dream," she added, "the light that parted the clouds, as I told you, symbolized the boy from the forest— the boy whom I doomed." A guilty smile crossed her face as she thought of him. She pictured both the little boy and the man she knew better than anyone else. "Now he's returned to us, which I fear is no coincidence. Hyrule will once more turn to his courage."

"I wish you could have known Link, Father." Zelda gave her father's cold hand a gentle squeeze. "I wish you could have known how much we owe him, how truly remarkable he is, and..." her cheeks flushed uncontrollably as she whispered, "how much he means to me. I would have liked to share that with you."

The royal family crest shimmered in the candlelight above the bed and served as a reminder of her situation— one she had slowly come to grips with over the course of the morning. "When I was eleven, I thought myself wise enough to take the fate of our kingdom into my own hands. I tempted destiny and almost destroyed everything." Zelda inhaled a deep breath of incense-laden air, closed her eyes, and stated, "but I am not that child anymore. I am ready for this. I am ready to become the Queen of Hyrule."

A knock on the door wretched Zelda back into the present moment. "Yes," she called as she rose from the floor.

"It's Mistress Impa, Your Majesty," Sir Ventripont's voice reverberated from the door. "Zel-Taren is with her."

"Let them come," she replied and took a deep breath. As the doorknob clicked open, Zelda bent over her father, brushed his white hair back, and placed a small kiss on his cold forehead. "I will avenge you, Father," she whispered. "I will not let our kingdom down."

"Your Grace..." Impa bowed as she entered, followed closely by Zel-Taren.

Hatred like she'd rarely felt before burned in Zelda's heart. She fought to suppress it as she stood tall and straightened out her skirts. "Zel-Taren." She feigned a smile. "So glad you could join me."

"A bit surprising, I must admit." Taren strode into the room with his arms clasped behind him. "Circumstances being what they are, Ten'al-taria was just preparing to depart these lands."

"So soon?" Zelda tutted. Her eyes narrowed on the prince.

"I figured it prudent." He fixed her with an icy-blue stare. The corners of his lips turned upward in a subtle smile.

" _You_ figured?" Zelda folded her arms across her chest. "And what would your father say? Where is the czar?"

"Preoccupied," the Prince retorted. "But I assure you he is most aggrieved."

"I see." Zelda pursed her lips as hatred swelled in her eyes. "Impa," she called, "if you would please, continue your search for the czar."

"But Your Grace, is that...?"

"I'll be fine, thank you," Zelda said forcibly. Impa fixed the young queen with one last uncertain glance as she departed, leaving Zelda alone with the Ten'al-tarian prince.

"I believe you underestimate me, Taren," Zelda picked up after a moment's silence. "I understand women in Ten'al-taria are not held in high regard, therefore, I can hardly blame you for your..." she paused and thought carefully about her choice of words. "...Lack of foresight."

"Enlighten me, princess. What have I failed to see?" Taren continued to gaze blankly back at Zelda. He seemed to be waiting for her to make an accusation.

"Let me try this again." Zelda began to pace back and forth along the side of the bed. "It's not about what you haven't seen, but rather, what I have. You stand here in the bedchamber of my father, his body, only hours cold, lies on the bed between us, and you don't believe I know how this has come to pass."

"Please, Your Majesty," Taren licked his lips, goading her. "I would love to hear what you've unearthed."

"A dagger, was it not?" Zelda spat. Her gaze never wavered from Taren's pale face. "Drenched in a poison that reacted slowly enough to buy you and your father enough time to escape with Mercy Middleton and make it back to the Great Hall in time for the banquet, unsuspected."

"I wouldn't be so hasty as to blame Ten'al-taria for this most unfortunate..."

"Silence!" Zelda shouted and stamped her foot. "I will not have you soiling my father's deathbed with your lies. I have seen it! I saw you in the king's fading mind with the knife in your hand!"

Taren's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Bravo..." He slowly clapped his gloved hands together. "I must say, Zelda, I am most impressed. My father's curse should have been impenetrable. I knew you were powerful, but still..."

"So you admit it, then," Zelda ignored his dark flattery, wanting nothing more than to hear his admission aloud.

"Very well," the prince laughed and slowly moved around the bed until he was hardly two feet away from the young Queen. "I admit to slaying the king. He is dead because I poisoned a dagger and drove it into his sagging flesh."

"Why..." Zelda fixed Taren with a look of disbelief. She resisted the powerful urge to lunge forward and strangle the prince with her bare hands. "My father was an tired old man, hardly a threat to anyone. What could you possibly have hoped to accomplish in taking his life?"

"It was my duty, Your Majesty!" Taren spat. "I know you're familiar with the term." A twinge of sadness, or possibly fear, dampened the prince's sense of bravado. "My father is a hard man to please," he muttered with a tone of disdain.

"And here I thought you were the soft one." She shook her head. "Harmless, I called you..."

"It seems we both underestimated each other." Taren cast a sly glance in the young queen's direction.

Zelda's brow furrowed. "Nevertheless, you accomplished nothing but putting an old king out of his misery. I am my father's successor. He may be gone, but his legacy lives on!"

"Princess Zelda..."

"No!" The young queen snapped. "Princess Zelda is dead! You killed her too, last night when you slew her father the King! Hyrule is more powerful than the might of one ruler."

"True, King Auberon left behind a successor," Taren rebutted, "but he left behind a daughter— a young and beautiful daughter of sixteen who has yet to wed, and by failing to do so, left her kingdom vulnerable."

"And what do you mean by that?" Zelda stammered. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Your kingdom teeters on the edge of annihilation." Anger crept into Taren's tone. "And Ten'al-taria has the power to bring Hyrule to its knees. Your people shall endure suffering and darkness unlike anything that—"

"I hardly believe your threats, Zel-taren."

"You should!" Taren fired, fists clenched. "And if you care for your people, Your Majesty, you will not make light of my proposal."

Zelda's heart leapt into her throat. "Proposal?"

"Marry me, Zelda." Taren's steel-blue eyes bore through the queen. "Unite Hyrule and Ten'al-taria through a peaceful and prosperous union, or else feel the wrath of a dark power like none other that has ever descended upon this holiest of lands."

"I will not," Zelda spat. Icy fear coursed through her veins.

"Because you love another?"

"NO!" Zelda could not mask her fear, hatred, and pride. "Because Hyrule is a peaceful land, a blessed land, that will never kneel before another!"

Taren fixed Zelda with a cold look. "Then view my offer as an ultimatum, not a proposal," he hissed. "In one week the Ten'al-tarian war machine will descend upon Hyrule. You can meet us in battle, if you so choose, but know this— Hyrule will be brought to its knees one way or another."

"And what if I don't let you leave?" Zelda struggled to sound confident. "What if I have you killed now? I'm sure our allies will understand."

"They may," Taren said coldly, "and they may not. See, you have no evidence— nothing save your word, at least. The words of a silly princess who has made up stories before. "

The blood drained from Zelda's face. Taren struck a painful chord. "A-and why might my word not be enough?" She deflected. _Where had Taren's confidence come from?_ she wondered. _This was not the prince she'd come to know in the past few days._

"I think you'll soon find that no country with even an inkling of the will to survive shall stand against Ten'al-taria now," Taren sneered. His eyes narrowed with rage. "Long has Ten'al-taria dwelt in the shadow of Hyrule, but no more. See, my father got what he came to this land for, and soon, when you accept me, princess— so will I." He grasped Zelda's hand and reeled her in so close she could feel his breath on her neck.

Zelda gasped and slapped Taren across the face with her free hand. "Never!" She screamed and pulled away. An orb of golden light formed in her hand and met Taren square in the chest. The prince stumbled backward and collided with an oil painting on the wall.

Righting himself, Taren laughed devilishly and licked a small cut that opened on his lip. "You're powerful, Zelda, very powerful. Combined with the might of Ten'al-taria, we would rule the world."

"Your Majesty!" Sir Ventripont burst through the door, followed closely by Impa. "Is everything alright? We heard a crash."

"Sir Ventripont." Zelda's heart raced. She reached for the bedpost to stabilize herself. "This man is responsible for the murder of King Auberon II. Arrest him."

Sir Ventripont hesitated for a moment, stunned by the queen's command. His eyes darted between the prince and Zelda before he unsheathed his sword.

"Do with me as you wish, Your Majesty," Taren laughed as he readjusted his cape and stared down the blade of the guard commander's sword. "It will not stop the chain of events that's already been set in motion."

A chill swept through Zelda. She struggled to remain unflinching. Taren continued to laugh as Sir Ventripont bound his hands behind his back.

"You have one week. No more," Taren leered, unblinking and cold. "I guess this concludes negotiations."

With that, Sir Ventripont led Zel-Taren from the room, leaving Zelda breathless and confused. Her eyes moved from the dead king, lying on the bed, to Impa, still standing in the doorway and utterly bewildered.

 _"In one week the Ten'al-tarian war machine will descend upon Hyrule."_ The prince's words echoed through Zelda's mind. She felt dizzy, sick. She leaned against the bedpost and massaged her forehead.

"Your Grace..." Impa rushed forward and reached for the young queen, but Zelda waved her down.

"No, Impa. I'm fine." She shook her head, stood tall, and mustered an assertive facade.

"But Your Grace..."

"Summon the High Council, immediately!" Zelda reached for her caretaker's hand. "There is no time to waste. Hyrule is threatened once more!"

* * *

Epona must have realized her master's sense of urgency, for no horse had ever crossed Hyrule Field as fast as she did on that journey. Dark clouds swirled overhead, releasing rain in torrential gusts, but Link paid it no attention. The whole way from the Lost Woods to the castle, he heard Zelda's voice in his head.

First she sounded sad. _"It's all right, Father. It's me... It's your Zelda."_

But her sorrow had turned to rage. _"Hyrule is a peaceful land, a blessed land, that will never kneel before another!"_

Link knew something terrible had happened, and he hadn't been there to stop it. He had left her alone.

A closed, heavily defended drawbridge greeted Link. Dozens of guards patrolled the walls, instead of the normal two or three. Wind whipped through the moat and sloshed water onto the bank. Link clamped down on Epona's reins as the mare tossed her head and backed away from the water's edge.

"Castle Town is on lockdown, kid," a guard at the edge of the moat called. "No one's permitted to enter or leave!"

Link pulled up alongside him and dismounted. "But I must see the princess!" he implored. "It's urgent!" Link half expected the man to laugh like the guard at the castle gate, but instead his eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer to examine the young Hylian.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Link's gaze shifted from the armored man to the others patrolling on top of the wall. The entire town being on lockdown was not a good sign. He grew more anxious by the second. "Link," he muttered. His fingers twitched with anticipation.

"You're Link?" The man sounded surprised, but not as surprised as Link himself, who couldn't imagine why a knight expected him. To Link's continued dismay, the knight turned and called to the men patrolling the castle wall. "Hey, Phineas! This kid is Link!" He gestured toward the bewildered young Hylian.

"That's Link?" A man on top of the wall leaned over and flipped back the visor on his helmet.

"Yeah!" The man beside Link waved his arm. "Lower the bridge!"

"Yes sir!" The guard on the wall saluted. The drawbridge slowly clanked open, revealing the dismally gray and silent streets of the town beyond.

"Thanks," Link muttered, but the knight raised his hand. "Don't thank me. My orders come directly from her Majesty." He stated proudly.

After they crossed the bridge, the knight signaled to the men on the wall to raise it behind them. Link fully began to realize the gravity of the situation— desolate streets and boarded up windows surrounded him. Not even a stray dog crossed the empty streets.

"Well, come on then," the knight called, already ten feet ahead of Link. The young Hylian nudged Epona in the side and trotted ahead.

"Umm, Sir..." Link started, but the knight cut him off.

"De Vaux," he stated proudly. "That's my name, Sir Dryden de Vaux. You can call me Sir Dryden though."

"Okay," Link huffed. He wasn't worried about pleasantries.

The sight of the main square made Link's heart leap into his throat. The streets were completely deserted, save for a few scattered guards standing tall and still around the plaza. A few more patrolled the side alleys in pairs. It eerily reminded Link of... _No!_ The young Hylian clenched his fists tightly. _Don't think like that!_

"What's going on here?" Link finally managed to voice aloud. He couldn't stand being in the dark a moment longer.

"I've already told you that," Sir Dryden scoffed. "The city's on lockdown."

"But why?" Link pressed.

"Nayru's love, 'Why,' he asks?" The knight gawked and shook his head. He seemed to grow more wary of Link by the second. "Why... because of the king of course!"

"The king ordered this?" Link asked, bringing Sir Dryden to a grinding halt.

"Hold up." His eyes narrowed on Link. "You mean to say you don't even know about _that?_ "

"Know what?" Link groaned, growing annoyed. He didn't appreciate being talked down to.

"The king was murdered last night, just before dinner." Sir Dryden's mouth hung open in disbelief. "That's why the High Council's been called together."

A thousand thoughts and questions swirled through Link's mind, making him dizzy. _The king... murdered?_ First, he wanted to know how, and who could have done it. Then his thoughts abruptly shifted toward Zelda and what it all meant for her. Link didn't know much about the Princess' political life, or nobility in general, but her father's passing surely meant that Zelda had to become...

"So you're not a knight," Sir Dryden's comment snapped Link's train of thought. "And you're certainly not noble, so do you mind telling me why the queen personally asked for you?"

"She's..." Link began, thinking carefully about how much truth he should reveal. "We're just friends."

"Hmm..." Sir Dryden's brow furrowed. "And how did you come to know a queen?"

"We met as kids." Link treaded the line between half-truths and lies. "It was another lifetime ago."

Sir Dryden didn't seem to buy his answer, but dropped the subject for the time being. "Well, she's going to need friends in this dark hour," he added. "She's what, sixteen?"

"She's not so young," Link muttered beneath his breath. _Zelda, a queen..._ he could hardly believe it.

Sir Dryden led him across the drawbridge to the doorstep of the castle. "You there, page!" He signaled for a kid stationed at the base of the steps to come forward. "This young man and I have urgent business inside the castle. Take his horse to the stables. Feed her, water her, and return to your post."

"Yes, my Lord." The page bowed and reached for Epona's reins, but the feisty young mare wanted nothing to do with him. She reared backward and snorted angrily.

"Woah, girl." Link signaled for Epona to back down. "Sorry," he tried to stifle a laugh when the kid shrieked and stumbled backward. "She just doesn't take well to strangers." He grabbed Epona's nose and stroked her forehead softly. "Behave yourself, girl," Link whispered in Epona's ear. "You'll be fine."

The mare nudged the young Hylian's ear as if to reluctantly say, "All right." Link patted the wild mare on the side and handed the reins to the page shaking in his boots, who comically tried to stay at least five feet in front of Epona as he led her away.

Link followed Dryden into the main castle corridor, up two winding sets of stairs, and into a hall he vaguely recognized from a few nights ago. A handful of smaller doors lined the left side of the hall, and light poured in through a few square windows to the right. Another guard stood outside of a door at the end of the corridor twice the size of the others. Link could only assume it led to Zelda's chambers.

"Sir de Vaux!" The guard clicked his heels together and saluted as Link and Sir Dryden approached.

The superior knight waved his hand to acknowledge the guard. "I'm delivering this kid to her Majesty. She asked for him personally."

"Very well," the guard replied, "but he must disarm first."

"What?" Link blinked and stepped back. "I'm not..."

"It's a matter of security, sir."

"Urgh..." Link groaned. He realized he wouldn't win the battle and reluctantly slipped off his sword, shield and bow and dropped them at the guard's feet.

"Thank you, sir," the guard mumbled and turned to open the door.

"Well then..." Sir Dryden tapped the young Hylian on the shoulder and removed his helmet.

Link immediately recognized the knight as the man he'd collided into at the banquet. Though there was something about Sir Dryden's cheeky smile and brown almond shaped eyes that made Link feel like he knew the young knight from somewhere else...

"I'm sure I'll see you around, Link. I'll be at the council meeting tomorrow." The knight extended his hand, which the young Hylian took graciously.

"Continue the good work, Geoffry." Sir Dryden saluted the guard, turned on his heels, and marched back down the corridor.

"Her Majesty is in the sitting room, I believe," said the guard, drawing Link's attention back.

The door eased open slowly, and the young Hylian crossed over the threshold into a room much brighter than the damp, dark corridors. Zelda was not alone in the open circular sitting room when he entered. A half-dozen other women reclined around her, chatting loudly. Impa stood in the corner beside an open window, gazing out into the stormy sky.

"Link," Zelda gasped. "You're here."

The eyes of all the women in the room turned on him. Suddenly he felt very nervous for appearing so dirty and soaked. "Yeah, I-I..." he stuttered.

"Ladies," Zelda said forcibly, "leave us please."

"But Your Majesty..." Disappointment spread throughout the room.

"Now." Zelda held up her hand.

The women argued no further. They straightened their skirts, collected their things, and smiled as they passed Link on the way out, making him feel even more uncomfortable.

"Did you go for a swim in the moat, Master Link?" Veronica de Caulmont chortled and flipped her wavy brunette locks over her shoulder. She departed last and closed the door so that only he, Impa, and Zelda remained in the sitting room.

Link exhaled wearily as his nerves dissipated. Zelda rose from her seat and fixed him with a sad smile. "You're soaked, Link."

"Yeah, it's raining outside." He rocked back and forth.

"I know." Zelda indicated toward the window.

"Right." Link dropped his gaze and wiped his wet bangs from his face. After a moment's silence, he stammered, "I left as soon as I... I left this morning. The Triforce... it alerted me somehow. I knew something happened." Link found himself walking toward her as he spoke. A deep sadness welled in her blue eyes that hadn't been there three days earlier. He resisted the urge to run to her, to hold her, and tell her everything would be all right whether he believed it or not.

"I'm grateful, Link." She smiled weakly. "I feel a lot safer knowing you're here."

"Don't mention it." Link shrugged. Another moment of silence followed in which the Queen of Hyrule and Hero of Time each reveled in what it felt like to stand in each other's presence. Link took a few steps closer to Zelda and gently rested his hand on her shoulder.

The queen closed her eyes, pressed her cheek to Link's leather gauntlet, and breathed deeply. She seemed so tired. Link longed to draw her closer, to whisper words of reassurance in her ear, and...

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Her soft words cut Link's illusions short.

"T-that doesn't matter anymore," Link stuttered and shook his head. "I just want to know what happened here."

"It was Zel-Taren." The Queen dropped her gaze. "He murdered the King."

 _That pompous prince?_ Link couldn't believe it. Zel-Taren seemed too puffed up and air-headed to be a murderer. But then Link remembered his dreams. " _Your kingdom is already mine, Your Majesty. There's nothing left for me to get away with..."_

"B-but how?" Link finally stammered. He felt Zelda's slender fingers wrap between his gloved ones. She led him toward a couch in front of the fireplace and explained everything that had happened the previous evening— the dagger, Mercy Middleton, and what she saw in the king's mind.

"I met with Zel-Taren earlier this morning to try and force more information from him, but he... " She sighed and looked away. "He threatened to declare war on Hyrule unless..."

"Unless what?" Link pressed, brow furrowed, searching Zelda's gaze.

"Unless I marry him." The tears that welled threateningly in her eyes finally fell. Link reached for Zelda's hand to comfort her, and to his pleasant surprise, she responded to his touch by sliding her arms around the young hero and resting her cheek on his shoulder. An aching feeling surged through Link, one he only felt in Zelda's presence, that he tried so desperately to ignore for many years...

"It's going to be all right," he whispered and stroked her hair.. "We'll get through this."

"But what about your dreams?" Her voice was barely audible. "It's all coming true, Link."

"We still have time," he muttered, struggling to sound confident.

"Not much time." Zelda shook her head and gently pulled away.

"What do you mean?" Link asked. He watched the young queen closely as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and sighed.

"Taren kept talking about some weapon Ten'al-taria has— a weapon that will make them the most powerful kingdom in the world. The war machine, he called it." Zelda drew another deep breath. "He gave Hyrule one week before Ten'al-taria attacks."

A dark scowl crossed Link's face. War— he knew what that word meant, perhaps more than anyone in the entire kingdom. Zelda searched his eyes for a response, but Link was still thinking. "What have you done so far?" He finally asked, his face expressionless.

"I had him arrested, for one," Zelda replied cynically, "but I don't know what good that will do seeing as his father's still at large. I've already told the Grand Master everything I know so we could start mobilizing some forces toward the Ten'al-tarian border. But besides that, I cannot formally declare war until the High Council convenes."

Link couldn't sit still any longer. He stretched his legs and began to pace the carpet. "And what about Mercy Middleton? Any news on her whereabouts?"

"Nothing," Zelda murmured. "I told her twin sister Amery everything I'd seen and charged one of my ladies to look after her. It was Czar-Aran that took her, I'm sure of it, but..."

"But what?" Link came to a halt before the queen and searched Zelda's sorrow-filled eyes.

"I just don't know what he could want with her," she sighed. "Mercy's such a sweet girl."

"These men are evil," Link spat. "There's nothing else to understand."

"I suppose..." Zelda's voice trailed off.

A moment of silence elapsed before Link clapped. "Well," his tone became more authoritative. "If it's a war the Ten'al-tarians want, then let them come." He pounded his fist into his hand. "I'll be waiting for them."

"Link..." Zelda fixed him with a worried stare. "Remember you're only one man, and you've never fought in a formal army."

"I know that," Link retorted, "but there's no one in the army with my... _experience._ " He shrugged and moved toward the door. "I'll leave right now. I'll ride out and meet the army in Kenton."

"No Link, please." Zelda's plea brought Link to a halt. He turned and eyed her curiously. She returned his gaze with a half-smile. "I want you to stay for the High Council meeting tomorrow," she implored. "It would mean so much to me for you to be there."

Link's heart leapt into his throat. He stood silent and still as the queen crossed the room toward him. The firelight glowed warm on her cold cheek and reflected from her tired eyes. She looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders— a look he'd seen in her eyes before.

"Of course I'll be there," he whispered and reached for her hand. For one silent moment, they stood with their fingers intertwined, gazing into each other's eyes. It felt right.

"And if it's not too much," Zelda said softly, "there's one more favor I would like to ask of you." She dropped her gaze and guiltily bit her bottom lip. "I know I shouldn't, but..."

"But nothing, Zelda." Link tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. "Let me hear it."

"Can you please stay here tonight?" she murmured. "I don't want to be alone."

Link chuckled softly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Zelda rested her arms on his chest and nestled her head under his chin. "We'll make it through this," she sighed. "I know we will."

As he closed his eyes, and concentrated on Zelda's slow, steady breathing against his chest, a wave of guilt swept through him. War consumed his thoughts. He felt guilty because the restless warrior— the killer— in him yearned for a fight. Part of him _encouraged_ war.

"Link..." Zelda looked up at him. "Are you all right? You seem concerned."

"I'm fine," he lied, forcing a smile, but thoughts of war continued to plague him. He fell asleep slouched in a squashy armchair at the queen's side, dreaming of a darker age, monsters falling with every swipe of his sword, and a man— a man with a glass eye twisting a glowing ruby between his long, pale fingers.


	11. Chapter 11

The Ten'al-tarian Royal Family's long history was littered with dysfunctions, none more thoroughly documented than the endless tradition of hatred between fathers and their sons. Czar-Tyran murdered his eldest son because he favored the second. Zel-Gassan claimed the crown by locking his father in a dungeon with a dragon, and Czar-Goten killed his son because he fell in love with his son's mistress. No hatred, however, ran deeper than what the current czar had felt for his late father, Czar-Mon.

Taren knew the story well. Thirty years ago, early in Czar-Mon's reign, an exiled Sheikah came to Ten'al-taria and spoke of the Gerudo's growing discontent with the monarchy. If there was any trait more deeply rooted than murder within the Royal Family, it was hatred for their neighbor to the southeast— the prosperous kingdom of Hyrule.

After speaking with the exiled Sheikah maiden, Czar-Mon met with the the Gerudo King, Lord Mohadaggad Dragmire, and agreed to support the rebels in return for a claim to half of the spoils of victory. He wanted to see Hyrule burn, and he wanted its ancient power - the power of the Goddesses, long rumored to dwell in the holy land.

As agreed, Czar-Mon supplied the Gerudo with weapons and warriors while he bode his time in the mountains, waiting for the hated Kingdom of the Gods to weaken. Finally, after years of resistance, the rebels discovered a secret catacomb beneath the city, and Czar-Mon decided the moment to strike had arrived. They used the passage to raid the castle. While rebels pillaged and plunged the white stone halls of Hyrule Castle, Czar-Mon captured the queen and made off with her in secret to claim his prize— the Power of the Goddesses.

Czar-Aran hated his father for being such a fool, for trusting the rebel forces to hold while he squabbled with the queen for the keys to the Door of Time. On his death bed decades later, Czar-Mon confessed that he had been blinded by his thirst for power, and thus too weak to retain the Triforce. Aran hated his father for his weakness. He hated being associated with it, and he hated the disgrace his father brought down upon their kingdom.

For decades following the Battle of Hyrule Castle, the Ten'al-tarian people clamored for Aran to rise to the throne, but to everyone's anguish, the washed-up old sovereign lived another thirty years. Aran, however, was not bitter. As much as he hated his father, he saw the latter years of Czar-Mon's life as valuable time to concoct his own plan that would succeed where his father had failed.

Aran had a theory. His entire scheme hinged upon it. After the Hero of Old used the Goddesses' power to unite the lands above and below the clouds, he sealed it away. Only the Royal Family of the new earth, and their guardians, the Sheikah, would know bits and pieces of the story. This plan worked for centuries— until one of the Sheikah turned against the peace. That Sheikah's name was Sachdev— father of the Ten'al-tarian people.

Aran believed that the king of Hyrule, in Sachdev's day, had the Sheikah leader executed and his followers banished not because Sachdev coveted the Triforce, as countless of others had before him, but because the Sheikah lord actually amassed the power to do so. To restore Ten'al-taria to glory, the power of their lord Sachdev had to be restored. Czar-Mon had been unfit to claim the Triforce because he was too weak to wield such a power. Aran understood he needed power to wield power.

That was why they came to Hyrule.

Zel-Taren sat in the darkness of his cell below Hyrule Castle. He closed his eyes, and listened to the other prisoners' moans, the patter of rats on the stone floor, and the steady drip, drip of water leaking from a crack in the wall.

Considering his circumstances, he felt rather at ease. He was used to darkness. Even when the sun shone on Ten'al-taria, the rays were cold and weak. The smell of mold and rotting flesh he could deal with for a time. He knew his father would come for him, and it wouldn't be long.

Taren did not hate Czar-Aran, though he often felt his father resented him. The prince was skilled with the sword, well-learned in magical arts, and considered the best horseman in the kingdom. Nevertheless, a disconnect between father and son had always existed. For all of the prince's valued qualities, he preferred to read and spend time alone in his study. Aran equated Taren's shyness to weakness.

More than anything, Taren desired to please his father. And so, when the plans had been laid, the prince had agreed to be the one who would murder the king.

Taren couldn't wait until his father came to free him. He couldn't wait for the czar to look upon him with affection and pride for how successful he had been. The prince thought back to the night of the murder and smiled. He remembered waiting as the nurse presiding over the sick ward was coaxed from the hall by the foolish Hylian henchman. He remembered how the poisoned knife pulsated in his palm as he lurked in the darkest corner of the room, anticipating his father to enter with the king.

Some might call Taren a coward for ambushing the king and denying the old man a chance to defend himself. Taren, however, liked to think of his tactics as the ultimate power. Knowing that the enemy walked blindly to his doom and that he, Taren, was the only obstacle standing between him and death; knowing that for a moment he literally held a man's life in his hands— that was power.

He recalled the look of pure disgust that Zelda shot him as he laughed over the old king's deathbed. _What a fool she had been for not accepting his hand!_ A wicked snicker escaped the prince's lips as he thought of the Princess of Hyrule. She was so unlike the women of Ten'al-taria— strong-willed and independent, with blue, soulful eyes and hair like the sun. If the goddesses had been mortal, they would have no doubt looked like her. Her only flaw was pride - the downfall of many great men and women before her. She had been too proud to accept his hand when he offered it in peace, and now her kingdom would suffer. Zelda would come crawling back to him begging for mercy as her pathetic army lay strewn across the blood-soaked plains.

Zel-Taren closed his eyes. He could see it as plainly as if it were happening right then. The powerful princess, brought to her knees by Ten'al-taria. She would beg him to spare her people, she would beg him to spare her life...

Then he, Zel-Taren of Ten'al-taria, would have both her allegiance and her kingdom.

* * *

_He stood in front of a stone door carved with a symbol like the rising sun - the Door of Time._

_"It's the only way..." a voice whispered. It seemed to emanate from all around him._

_"Who's there?" Link called as he spun around trying to locate the source of the disturbance. "Show yourself!" His bellow echoed through the empty nave. Black tapestries hung from the walls and adorned the altar behind him._

_"You know this to be true..." the voice echoed again._

_"Know what to be true?" Link huffed, growing frustrated. "What's the only way? Only way for what?"_

_"The only way..." the voice said again, growing fainter._

_Link pressed his ear against the Door of Time's cold, rough surface. A chill ran down his spine. He could have sworn the voice was coming from the other side of the door._

_Suddenly, the sound of grinding stone filled the nave. Link leapt away from the door as it slid away, revealing the narrow arched corridor beyond. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck and his palms dampened. He sensed danger._

_The door came to a grinding halt and the path ahead appeared clear, illuminated by a heavenly glow in the spacious domed chamber beyond. Link's legs carried him instinctively toward the hexagonal dais in the center of the room._

_"The way..." The disembodied voice sounded louder._

_Link's eyes grew wide with excitement as he stepped up the dais and drew level with a blade wedged firmly in a stone pedestal— the Master Sword. Light gleamed off of its indigo hilt, and its sleek blade glowed with a holy blue light._

_Link reached for the sword. His fingers twitched eagerly, wishing to grasp the hilt once more..._

_But before he could reach it, the walls of the basilica began to quake with an unnatural might. A deep throaty laugh filled the circular chamber. Link wheeled around and came face-to-face with the unblinking glass eyes of the hooded figure. He twisted the blood-red jewel in his long, pale fingers._

_"Who are you?" Link demanded, but the figure only continued to laugh. The glass eye reflected deep hues of blue, red, and violet._

_"I will stop you!" Link shouted. "Whatever you're after, I will never let you—"_

_The man's laugh stifled Link's threat. A pool of blood formed at the stranger's feet and spread outward rapidly until it completely surrounded the young Hylian. The walls of the Temple of Time melted away, leaving Link and the mysterious figure alone in the sea of blood._

_"What in Farore's name?" Link gasped. Blood stretched out as far as he could see. The hooded man hovered inches over the deep red surface._

_"You will never..." Link began to say, but his words were drowned out by the sound of screams— ear-splitting, high-pitched cries of terror that made his blood run cold._

_The last thing Link saw was a flash of red... but the screams remained._

Link's eyes shot open. Sweat matted the hair on the back of his neck to his head, and he gasped deeply as his heart rate returned to normal.

"You're awake," a husky voice called from across the room.

Link rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the gray morning light. Two maids fluttered through the room fluffing pillows, drawing back curtains, and dusting everything in sight. A dark silhouette approached him.

"We must get you ready for the council meeting this afternoon." It was Impa. She stood before him, arms crossed, tapping her knuckles patiently against her forearm.

Link groaned as he straightened up. He'd fallen asleep in a chair at Zelda's bedside. His stiff neck cricked as he rolled his sore shoulders back.

"Is everything all right, young hero?" the Sheikah asked. Her crimson eyes locked onto him.

"Yeah..." He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "Just another dream."

"I see," the Sheikah said. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No," Link stated suddenly. "Not right now. I'm still..." He paused, thinking about his words, "I'm still thinking it over. Let's get through this meeting first."

"I'm sure you know what's best, Hero." Impa fixed him with a worried glare but questioned him no further.

An hour later, after being forced to change out of his dirty green tunic, Impa escorted Link toward the Great Hall to await the start of the banquet. A noisy crowd gathered around the bronze doors at the entrance.

"Hello, Link!"

The young Hylian heard his name through the clamor. Sir Dryden de Vaux was making a beeline toward him. The knight's shaggy brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, and he wore an emerald surcoat like Link remembered from the banquet. The symbol of Faron was emblazoned onto the chest in gold thread. Link fixed him with an inquisitive stare. The feeling he knew the young knight from somewhere gripped him once more.

"I believe you met Sir de Vaux yesterday, Link?" Impa said over his shoulder.

Link muttered a quick "Yes," and continued to rack his brain, trying to match the knight's face with some piece of his past.

"Thought I'd see you here," Sir Dryden said cheerfully as he neared Link and shook his hand. "You'll be sitting with my family when the meeting starts. Mistress Impa asked me to keep an eye on you. Council meetings aren't your cup of tea, eh?"

"Not really," Link shrugged.

"You know his family," Impa insisted. "The de Vaux's are good people."

"Thank you, ma'am." Sir Dryden smiled and puffed his chest out proudly.

Impa nodded in response before turning back to Link. "Unfortunately, I must leave you here," she said in a low tone. "The queen needs my attention."

Link nodded and thought about how anxious Zelda must have felt. "Go, Impa," he murmured. "I'll be fine."

Without another word, the Sheikah bowed her head and turned to leave. As Link watched Impa's dark profile disappear into the swelling crowd, Sir Dryden chuckled. "So you're the talk of the castle today, mate." He thumped Link on the shoulder, sending the young Hylian stumbling backward under the surprising force of the knock.

"What? Why?" Link stammered and massaged his shoulder. He flushed with embarrassment at the thought of a bunch of noblemen and women talking about him.

"Because," Sir Dryden continued, "the queen seems to trust you as much as she does Mistress Impa, and that's saying a lot."

"But why is that anyone's business?" Link exclaimed, growing defensive.

"The queen's business is everyone's business," Sir Dryden pressed. "Or at least they think it is."

Link eyed Sir Dryden with unease. The knight had been raised around the court, so all the talking that nobles seemed to do didn't strike Sir Dryden as unusual. Link, however, had been brought up on secrets, lies, and veiled truths. He learned through experience to operate out of sight and mind and therefore avoid unnecessary questioning.

"That doesn't seem right," Link finally mumbled and folded his arms across his chest.

"It's not," Sir Dryden stated flatly, "but it's the way things work around here. See, no one knows a thing about you, only that you suddenly showed up out of nowhere on the eve of the banquet and have some close connection to the queen."

"Sir Dryden, I mean no disrespect." Link voice rose. A hint of irritation crept into his tone. "But I can't tell you why she trusts me so much. I've known her since we were kids—"

"Look, I'm not trying to pry," the knight interjected defensively. "Your business is between you and Her Majesty. I just wanted to give you a heads up. You need to be on your toes around here," he calmly continued. "Court is a dangerous place."

"Well, err..." Link ran his fingers through his hair. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Sir Dryden's eyes shifted uneasily before he clapped his hands and shifted onto another subject. "Anyway, since you've obviously never sat in on a High Council meeting before, let me fill you in quick."

As they weaved their way through the crowd, Sir Dryden began to ramble on about council procedure. "There's eight voting members, nine including the queen," the knight said, gesturing rapidly. "They'll sit at the long table in the middle of the room. The rest of us will sit in the surroundings pews as non-voting nobility— barons, marquises, and the like— as well as few knights and members of the household." Link listened, eyes wide, to the words Sir Dryden spewed, but wasn't sure how much information he actually retained.

"Only speak when spoken to. Actually, don't speak at all." He turned to Link and laughed. "Do that and you'll be fine. Got it?"

"Got it." Link gulped. He suddenly felt nervous— the same fish-out-of-water feeling that consumed him before the banquet. Everywhere he walked, heads turned and whispers followed.

"That's the kid from the banquet..."

"Remember the _dance_?"

"Lady Veronica told me he was with the queen all night."

"I wonder what they could have been talking about?"

"I wonder what they could have been _doing_..." An elderly woman with a pink cap and veil pinned into her curly white hair eyed Link suspiciously as she passed, but no one addressed him directly.

"That's Lady Gytha d'Auvrecher, the Marchioness of Ashleigh," Sir Dryden muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "She's a right batty old maid. Her husband was a real social climber. Everyone knows he married the old crow for her title. Died in the bed of another woman. Anyway, our pew's at the end of the hall."

Link's head was spinning. He nodded and followed the young knight as they painstakingly maneuvered their way through the crowd. Once they broke free of the group, however, a few familiar figures caught Link's eye and his nerves evaporated instantly. Darunia, the Big Boss of the Gorons, Princess Ruto of the Zora, and Nabooru, the leader of the Gerudo sat along one side of the long table in the center of the room. Joining them was Lord Gustaf from Ordon, and three regally-dressed figures Link didn't recognize.

"Link!" Darunia's gravelly voice boomed. His wide grin and sparkling eyes softened his rocky exterior. Link smiled and waved as he shuffled through the pews behind Sir Dryden.

"You seem to have some friends on the council, Link." Sir Dryden observed, brow raised in surprise.

Link wasn't sure what the knight meant to insinuate. "Umm..." He shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

"The Duchess of Lanayru hasn't taken her eyes off you since we got here." Sir Dryden choked on a laugh and indicated toward Princess Ruto. She giggled and flapped her fins when Link looked her way. "You have a thing for Zoras, mate?"

"Hardly." Link rolled his eyes and smiled uncomfortably as he waved to Ruto.

"And the Duke of Eldin," Sir Dyden pressed, "you know him too?"

"W-we've met once or twice." Link's gaze dropped. He knew how suspicious it must have appeared for a seeming pauper such as himself to have so many friends in high places.

"Sounds to me like you're just being modest," the knight urged, backing Link into a corner.

"What I meant to say was," the young Hylian stammered defensively, "I've helped him out once or twice. I travel a lot."

"I see..." Sir Dryden didn't sound wholly convinced. Another figure, however, caught his attention. "The man over there, next to the Gerudo leader, is my father," he pointed toward the table and stated proudly. "Lord Gustaf de Vaux— the Duke of Faron."

"Ohh..." Link's eyes rested on the hunched figure of Lord Gustaf. He suddenly felt silly for not drawing the connection between the Duke and the young knight himself. "I met your father the other day in Ordon."

"Really? You were in Ordon?" Sir Dryden sounded perplexed.

"Yeah, with Ze—" Link began to say the queen's name, but quickly cut himself off. He didn't want to re-open that can of worms.

"Well, this is our row." Sir Dryden gestured toward a wooden pew already occupied by a few figures. "If you met my father, I'm sure you already know my mother," Sir Dryden indicated toward a woman clad in similar shades of emerald. "Lady Evelyn de Vaux."

Link nodded and bowed his head. Lady Evelyn held out her hand and Link, remembering what Veronica de Caulmont told him at the banquet, kissed the back of her glove respectfully. "Pleasure to see you again, Link." Her round cheeks and almond eyes filled with warmth as she smiled.

"And this," Sir Dryden continued, "is my older brother Vincent— heir to the Duchy of Faron." Link leaned forward and shook the hand of a man with the same long brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. He was shorter than Sir Dryden and had a square jaw like the Duke.

"And this," Sir Dryden began to say as he moved along the row, "well, actually I don't know who this is... Mother?"

"Oh, Dryden," Lady Evelyn's smile lit up the room. "This is one of your father's and my oldest friends, Sir—"

"Caedmon..." Link's heart leapt into his throat as he drew up behind Sir Dryden. It took him a second to recognize the man before him. The old knight looked less like a wild dog and more like a gentleman of the court. His matted, sandy-gray hair had been tamed by a brush and his beard was whittled down to a graying goatee. His familiar blue eyes, however, remained always vigilant and youthful.

"W-what are you doing here?" Link swallowed and stammered.

"I left right after you did," the old knight mumbled in reply, gazing down at his boots. He didn't appear much more comfortable at court than Link did, and possibly less so.

"Link, you know this man?" Sir Dryden asked. His brow arched with curiosity.

"Yeah, he's my—" Link choked on his word, not sure of what to say. "He's, umm..."

"I'm his uncle," Caedmon injected promptly.

"Yeah," Link nodded, catching on. "He's my uncle."

"Distantly, of course," Caedmon added coolly. "Link is my cousin's wife's sister's kid. Poor woman caught the sweat and it did her in. Link here came to find me soon afterward."

"Oh, sorry to hear about that, Link. Sounds terrible." The young knight fell silent.

Link mustered a hardly audible "Um, yeah... terrible." Inside he felt numb. A complex mixture of emotions swelled in his heart— a mixture of both contentment and anxiety.

Sir Dryden directed one last bemused look at Link and Caedmon before turning his back on them to converse with his brother. As he did, Link found his voice returning to him. "What are you doing here?" he stated through gritted teeth. He eyed the old knight with a mixture of skepticism and disbelief.

"Well," the old knight rubbed the back of his neck and looked sheepishly at the ground, "I-I realized... I realized that you were right."

"Right about what?" Link folded his arms and examined Caedmon through narrowed eyes, but before the old knight could answer, a squat man in pouffy pants sounded a trumpet from the front of the hall.

"Everyone, please take your seats," he announced. "The council meeting will begin shortly!"

Conversation died to a low rumble as everyone took their places in the pews surrounding the Great Table. Link wedged himself between Sir Dryden and Caedmon along the narrow bench. The pungent smell of over-applied perfume burned his nose. Lady Gytha d'Auvrecher plopped herself on the pew in front of him, so that Link had to crane his neck to see the bronze doors over her pink hat.

Sir Dryden noticed the irritated look on Link's face and chuckled. "Don't mess with her, mate. She could probably lick a Goron."

The young Hylian gave an disgruntled sigh and turned his attention back to Caedmon. "You didn't answer my question," he whispered forcefully.

"What question?" The old knight grumbled.

"You were about to tell me why you came back," Link reminded him. "You said I was right about something."

Caedmon rolled his eyes. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

"You haven't said anything yet!" Link's voice rose, prompting Lady Gytha to wheel around and sound a harsh "Shhh!"

Sir Dryden choked on a laugh, but Link chose to ignore the Marchioness. "Well?" He urged the old knight once more. From the way Caedmon hung his head and slumped his shoulders, the old man seemed more embarrassed than afraid.

"I-I was being a coward," he murmured at hardly a whisper. "I'll admit it. There was no reason for me to stay in the forest."

Link's mouth fell open, but no words came out. Before he could respond to the old knight, the trumpet sounded once more and every head turned to face the entryway.

"Please rise," the squat man instructed. In a wave of shuffling chairs and skirts, the hall was on its feet again. "Presenting Her Majesty, Queen Zelda of Hyrule!"

The bronze doors creaked open. The sound reverberated through the suddenly silent hall as the queen entered. She looked more dignified, more royal than Link had ever seen her before. Golden armor accented the shoulders of her pink and white gown, and a sleek gold-hilted sword hung at her waist. Impa and Sir Ventripont flanked her shoulders, and the women of the court brought up the rear of the procession.

Link's gaze wandered from Zelda to the faces of the other noblemen and women. They seemed stoic and reserved - their eyes expressionless and apprehensive, but with a hint of anxiousness. They were eager to hear what the young queen, their new leader, had to say.

 _She's ready for this._ Link closed his eyes and thought to himself. _She's the keeper of the Triforce of Wisdom. The people need her._

When Link opened his eyes, he was shocked to see Zelda quickly looking in his direction. For a brief second they locked eyes, and the corners of her lips turned into a subtle smile. The feeling that the queen could hear his thoughts and feel his emotions once again gripped the young Hylian.  
"So that's Zelda," Caedmon murmured beside Link, breaking the young Hylian's intense concentration. "She looks a lot like her mother."

"She looks..." Link tried to respond, but stumbled over his words. "She looks..."

"Why are you so nervous?" Caedmon chuckled.

"I'm not nervous," Link whispered defensively, fists clenched at his side. He was taking the matter with Zelda rather personally. _But that's because we're such good friends, he told himself._

She reached the head of the long table, where the same golden arm-chair the king once occupied had been drawn up for her. The man in the pouffy pants raised his arm toward the queen and announced, "Queen Zelda of Hyrule!"

"Long live the queen," the court chanted back. Link and Caedmon mumbled after them, not familiar with the routine.

Zelda held out her open palms, inviting the congregation to take a seat. She remained standing as the sound of shuffling chairs filled the hall once more. Link smiled as he gazed down at the familiar figures lining the Great Table. Four of the nine voting council members were Sages. If Link felt confident in those odds, then Zelda must have too. Suddenly, the gossip of the other nobles didn't seem to matter.

"My Lords, Ladies, and countrymen, I would like to thank you all for coming so hastily. Hyrule has precious little time to spare if we are to defend our kingdom." Zelda's voice filled the hall. Her tone was smooth yet forceful, her expression calm and serious. "The law of nature moves me to grieve for my father, and yet my duty prevents me. As your queen, I mean to direct all my actions by good advice and counsel."

Zelda paused for a moment to collect her thoughts before proceeding. "We meet now to consider the circumstances which have brought us to this moment. Thirty-six hours ago," she said slowly, "King Auberon II was murdered inside these very walls. On this same night, forces plotting from within made away with one of my ladies. I have drawn, on good authority, a connection between these two acts and a plot to overthrow our kingdom, devised by our royal guests from Ten'al-taria. They entered our city flying a banner of false peace, and then, to prove that nobody can touch them, murdered the king in cold blood. For these most inequitable acts, it is our divine right to retaliate."

"So it was the Ten'al-tarians then?" One of the men at the Great Table, who Link did not recognize, spoke out. "Does Your Majesty know exactly who?"

"That's Chancellor Abner Tarquin," Sir Dryden muttered to Link, "the Minister of Foreign Affairs— a member of the House of Polis."

The young Hylian wasn't sure what that meant, but he could tell that the man, as well as the three others Link did not recognize, was important. In the silence that followed the chancellor's words, everyone in the hall seemed to teeter on the edge of their seats, awaiting the queen's response.

Zelda looked up, and with her chin held high, back straight and tall, she announced, "It was Zel-Taren who murdered the king."

A wave of gasps and cries washed over the room. "Does Your Majesty have any proof?" Chancellor Tarquin's voice rose over the murmurs, his tone peppered with doubt. The question stirred up a twinge of anger inside Link. The congregation fell silent as their attention turned once again toward the Great Table.

"I heard his confession in my father's quarters only hours ago," Zelda replied, locking eyes with the chancellor. "That confession is why the young prince is being held in our dungeons at this very hour."

"But do you think it wise, Your Majesty, imprisoning a prince like that?" The man nearest the queen's left added. Golden armor decked him from head to toe. Link assumed him to be a knight, perhaps even the head of knights. "His father could use that as a reason to attack, however deserved a punishment it might be."

"I fear that the czar's plans in no way hinges upon his son's well-being." Zelda shook her head and looked down at her hands on the table in front of her. "My father's murder and Mercy Middleton's abduction were only the first part to a much larger plan devised by Czar-Aran to overthrow Hyrule."

"How do you know?" The master knight stammered.  
"Before I had the prince arrested," Zelda continued, "he spoke gloatingly of a weapon Ten'al-taria acquired - a weapon he boasted will bring Hyrule to its knees. He plans to turn it upon us in six days' time."

"But this is most unjust!" Darunia's booming voice shook the walls. A few noblewomen jumped in their seats. "What has Hyrule done to deserve this?"

Princess Ruto nodded in agreement. "There must be some reason, Your Majesty." Her glossy purple eyes never blinked.

"Envy is one of the most universal and profound sins." Zelda bowed her head. "Judging from my past conversations with the prince, I fear Ten'al-taria's suffering in the face of our land's prosperity has cultivated these grievances."

"But this is simply not fair," Lord Gustaf huffed and pounded his cane against the stone floor. "The Ten'al-tarians fought with the rebels during the Civil War. Therefore, the Goddessess' displeasure of their kingdom is of their own doing. How can Hyrule be held liable for the Goddesses' blessings?"

"There must be some room for negotiation," Chancellor Tarquin added. "When you spoke with Zel-Taren, did he not offer any terms for a peaceful agreement?"

Zelda fell silent. Link clenched his knees with his sweaty palms, not liking the direction of the discussion. The queen's gaze once again flicked up into the pews. A hint of guilt sparkled in her blue eyes. Link held her fixed look for a moment.

"He offered an ultimatum," Zelda said slowly. "An offer which I could not accept."

"And..." Chancellor Uther pressed.

"Zel-Taren offered to call off his army if..." she paused. "If I accept his hand in marriage - and unite our kingdoms through peaceful matrimony."

Another wave of shock swept through the hall. Darunia didn't move, Ruto looked away sadly, and Nabooru's brow arched with curiosity. Link ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He hated that Zelda had to go through this.

"Are you all right?" Caedmon asked, seeming to sense Link's internal struggle.

"I'm fine..." the young Hylian mumbled.

"You seem conflicted."

"Well, I'm not!"

Lady Gytha spun around again. "Shhh!" She leered at Link through her beady eyes like he was a fly she wished to swat.

Link vexed his frustration with a heavy sigh and sunk back into his seat. He closed his eyes and listened once more as Zelda's voice rose over the low mumbling of the crowd. "Hyrule will not join in any sort of union with Ten'al-taria!" Bitterness laced her tone. "They stand against the founding principles of our realm, and have wounded us in the worst sort of way!"

"Forgive me for being rash, Your Majesty," Chancellor Tarquin interjected. "But there's still one detail that does not add up. What did Czar-Aran say when you spoke with him?"

"I have not spoken with the czar," Zelda replied coolly. "I fear he has already fled these lands."

"But a prince does not have the authority to make autonomous decisions for his kingdom," Lord Gustaf's scratchy voice called out. "Only the sovereign can declare war."

Chancellor Tarquin nodded and added, "Besides, we have yet to receive a formal declaration..."

"I am sure Zel-Taren acted on his father's orders." Zelda replied.

"But they cannot attack without a written..."

"Can't they?" The queen held up a firm hand, silencing the headstrong minister. "They murdered my father in his own castle, and you think that a signed document will prevent them from unleashing whatever weapon they've unearthed in six days' time?"

Chancellor Tarquin opened his mouth to respond, but lowered his gaze and backed down.

Zelda drew a deep breath and looked out into the congregation. "We shall continue our press for negotiations as long as we can. However, the Council should recognize that the enemy is upon our doorstep. Therefore, our first order of business must be to mobilize the troops and prepare for war."

A few scattered murmurs broke out after the queen's last words, but she continued to speak over them. "It grieves me to make this my first sovereign decree. I do not wish for war. I do not like uncertainty. But Hyrule is, and must remain, a beckon of hope for this world. That is why we fight!"

Zelda then turned to look each one of the High Council members in the eye. "I ask you in this dark hour to embrace my will the same way you would have my father's. I ask the noble High Council to weigh the merit of my proposition and vote upon a measure to put Hyrule at war with the kingdom of Ten'al-taria."

Nabooru rose from her seat. "I agree with Her Majesty." She slapped her hand on the table. "How dare this prince demand the hand of a woman whose father he murdered hours before?"

"Typical Gerudo answer," Chancellor Tarquin grumbled. "Always looking for a fight."

"Decorum, Chancellor!" Lord Gustaf exclaimed.

Zelda flashed the Minister a testy look. "Indeed," she snapped. "You speak out of line, Chancellor."

"My apologies, Your Majesty." He bowed his head and sunk back into his seat.

"Moreover," Zelda turned to face Darunia and Princess Ruto, "I would like to hear what the Gorons and the Zora have to say about the situation."

"Well..." Darunia grunted. His brow furrowed into a puzzled look. "The Gorons don't like fighting, but considering the circumstances, I don't see any way around it."

"I agree, Your Majesty." Ruto nodded. "We can continue to press for negotiations, but if Czar-Aran has his mind made up to attack, we must be prepared for it."

"In the meantime, we have to send word to our allies," Nabooru said, eyeing Chancellor Tarquin narrowly. "It's only right they come to our defense."

"Selbee doesn't have much of an army," the Grand Master spoke up, "but the Borhanians are the best marksmen around. Six days hardly gives our allies enough time to prepare, though. We'll need to send word to them immediately, my Lord Tarquin."

The Minister of Foreign Affairs looked up from his ponderous, distant gaze at the sound of his name. "If it would please Her Majesty, I will have a document drawn up immediately, and send six of our best riders out to the lands of our allies before nightfall."

"Is the Council settled then?" Zelda asked calmly. "Shall we vote on a measure to war with Ten'al-taria?"

"Hyrule will have the aid of the Gorons." Darunia thumped a clenched fist to his heart. "As the Duke of Eldin, I approve the Queen's proposition."

"As the Duchess of Lanayru," Ruto's fins flipped with pride, "I, too, approve the proposition."

"The Gerudo might not have the most heralded history with Hyrule Proper, but in this new age for my people, I, Nabooru, stand for the entire Gerudo tribe in saying we will fight to defend our kingdom and the honor of our new queen!"

Link picked up on the hint of veneration in the Gerudo leader's voice. Though it had been all but erased by history, the Spirit Sage never forgot her tribe's connection with the King of Evil.

"Link." Sir Dryden nudged the young Hylian in the side and pointed toward the end of the pew. A young page stood at the end of the aisle holding a letter.

"For me?"

"I believe so." Sir Dryden waved for the page to pass the letter along. Link's fingers wrapped around the smooth, yellow parchment. The royal family crest shined on the front face in gold foil, and inside, a message was scribbled hastily in black ink.

_Link -_

_Sorry I had to leave before you woke this morning. My maid, Cara, will wait for you by the doors. Look for her after the meeting._

_Zelda_

Link's eyes flicked back up to the figure seated in the golden throne at the forefront of the Great Table. "There are two ways into Hyrule from Ten'al-taria, and we have no idea from which angle they might strike." She had moved on to discussing tactical matters, which Link found much more interesting than diplomacy.

"The czar and his convoy," she continued, "entered through Gerudo lands and crossed the Valley Bridge into Remington; however, it would be most unwise for them to try a formal attack through the desert. The only other way would be through the mountains west of Kenton— our most fortified and well-equipped city. As you know, Zora's River runs between the city's wall and the base of the mountains. Since there is no bridge across, an attack on Kenton from the west seems unlikely, but perhaps more feasible than crossing the Haunted Wasteland with an entire army. Ministers, I seek counsel on how we should allocate our defenses."

A moment of silence followed as the council members exchanged hesitant looks. Finally, Nabooru took the liberty of speaking first. "If I may express myself plainly, Your Majesty," she said with a sly grin, "the Gerudo have an army. It may be small, but it is fierce, and with all due respect, the best trained in all the land."

Before Sir Bourdekin could object, Nabooru raised a hand to silence him. "Do not forget the Civil War, Grand Master, and the damage a mere handful of Gerudo wrought upon the kingdom. My tribe's allegiances may be reformed, but we train for battle using the same methods we have for hundreds of years."

"Nabooru," Zelda cut in, "as honorable as Gerudo intentions may be, the desert is a vast land to cover with such small numbers."

"Indeed, but no one, especially a band of mountain-dwelling foreigners, knows it like we do. War or not, the Gerudo would find it most distressing if I were to break with our most sacred and ancient code."

Sir Bourdekin opened his mouth to object, but Nabooru held up her hand, and pressed on. "However, given the unknown nature of Zel-Taren's threats, I will permit a few Hylian regiments into the Valley. Strategically speaking, it's more important than our little fortress, is it not?"

The Grand Master's thick, gray brow contorted. "Indeed," he huffed and slid back into his seat. "Will three units be enough, or shall I send four?"

"Two will be sufficient." Nabooru tossed her red ponytail over her shoulder. Satisfaction flickered in her golden eyes.

"Then let's consider the matter of the Gerudo border closed," Zelda announced. She turned to face Princess Ruto. "Now, concerning Kenton, the stretch of Zora's River between Castle Town and Lake Hylia is a critical one. If the Zora Army is prepared, all units should dispatch for the western river immediately."

"We are always ready, Your Majesty." Ruto stated proudly, although Link knew very well that the Zora princess wouldn't have admitted anything less to the court.

"Let's focus especially on the stretch of river at the Wall of Kenton." Zelda added.

"It will be done." Ruto's fins flicked as she bowed her head.

"And the Gorons," the young queen continued, her tone becoming increasingly more confident. "I know you have no standing army, but should there be any volunteers, we would graciously accept them into the Hylian ranks."

"Oh, there will be volunteers, Your Majesty." Darunia's grin stretched two feet across his wide face. "I'll make sure of it."

"And we'll need bombs, lots of bombs. And if you can," words tumbled out of Zelda's mouth as the ideas occurred to her, "tell Biggoron we will need all the swords he can provide. The militia must be equipped."

"I will have all of our supplies sent to Kenton immediately," the Big Boss of the Gorons replied. "Biggoron and Medigoron will not stop making swords until this whole ugly thing is over like another bad dream."

The young queen pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes in thought for a moment. When no further ideas came to her, she finally exhaled. "Very well, then." A weary smile crossed her face. "That is all I have for now; however before I take my leave, I should like to open the table for any further concerns of the moment."

The council members exchanged glances once more. When no man, Zora, Goron, or Gerudo raised their voice, they turned to face the young Queen and bowed their heads respectfully.

"Than I hereby adjourn this meeting of the High Council." Zelda's voice reverberated through the chamber. "Ministers, Grand Master, I would like a report on your statuses by this evening."

Link's heart filled with admiration for Zelda. The entire hall silently rose to its feet and bowed as the queen departed the room, trailed once more by Impa, her chief guard, and finally the other High Council members— including Darunia, Nabooru, and Ruto, to Link's disappointment. After the procession disappeared behind the bronze doors, shuffling and murmurs filled the hall once more. Whispers of war surrounded Link, but all he could think about was the young queen, his friend Zelda.

Even though they both bore shards of the Triforce, Link knew he could never measure up to her. Zelda wasn't just wise. She was the complete package with the power of a queen, the courage to lead the kingdom, and the wisdom to command her subjects justly.

"Are you coming, Link?" Sir Dryden's voice broke the young Hylian's trail of thought.

"No, I've got to meet someone," he muttered in reply.

"How about you, Caedmon?" Sir Dryden asked the old man to Link's left.

"I, umm..." The old knight's gaze flicked uneasily between Link and the de Vauxs standing at the end of the pew.

"He's going to stay too," Link interjected. Caedmon poorly tried to mask a grin with a subtle huff.

"All right," Sir Dryden nodded and shook hands with both the young Hylian and the old knight. "I'm sure I'll be off for Kenton, as soon as I get word from the Grand Master, but umm..." the young knight smiled weakly, "take care of yourself, Link."

The Duchess turned and waved goodbye. "It was so lovely to see you again, Caedmon. I pray it won't be another thirty years."

"Let's hope not," Caedmon replied with a half smile.

After the de Vaux's left, Link and Caedmon sat down simultaneously and sighed. Neither said a word for a moment as they both tried to anticipate what the other was thinking.

"You know," Caedmon broke the silence after a moment, "I could go if you want me to?"

"No, stay," Link exclaimed before realizing what he said. "I mean, where else would you go?"

The old knight wordlessly shrugged. The two men leaned back against the now-empty pew as the waves of noblemen and women made for the bronze doors.

"Listen, Caedmon," Link said uneasily. "I haven't told Zelda about you yet."

"Told her about me?" The old knight fixed Link with a curious look.

"You know," the young Hylian shifted uneasily in his seat, "that you're... alive."

"That I'm alive?"

"Do you have to repeat everything I say?" Link huffed and folded his arms across his chest.

"No, I'm just..." Caedmon choked on a laugh. "You're really struggling right now."

"I'm not a wordsmith, okay?" Link rolled his eyes.

"All right," the old knight muttered with a smile.

"So..." Link said slowly, "you didn't happen to tell the Duke about me, did you?"

"Well, considering you met him the other day, I didn't think I had to."

"That's not what I meant," Link muttered, growing impatient. He felt like he was back in the Lost Woods arguing with the old man about the existence of fairies. Caedmon could be down right infuriating to talk to at times. "Did you tell him about you and me— about the nature of our..."

"You mean," Caedmon cut him off, "did I tell Gustaf that my son, who I thought was dead for thirty years, showed up on my doorstep, and oh, by the way, he's actually only sixteen and grew up in a magical forest of little people? No, I didn't."

"Good..." Link bobbed his head and exhaled. "It's probably for the best. In fact, it's probably best we don't tell anyone, to avoid a lot of unnecessary questioning."

"Link, it's your call." Caedmon held his hands up. "Everything is. I just wanted..." He paused and lowered his gaze. "I just wanted to see you," he muttered at an almost inaudible volume.

Link didn't know whether the old knight felt guilty or embarrassed, though he shouldn't have felt either. After all, Link wanted to see him as well. The young Hylian knew as little about being a son as Caedmon knew about being a father— that much was apparent. Link did, however, know what it meant to be a friend. He figured if they could start with that, then perhaps the rest would work itself out.

"Caedmon," he placed his hand on the old knight's shoulder and smiled. "I'm glad you came."

The old knight exhaled in relief. "Good."

Link noticed a short, mousy woman frantically scanning the pews through squinted eyes. "I think I see the maid," he muttered as he stood. "We should go."

"But," the old knight said hesitantly, "the queen won't mind if I..."

"Caedmon," Link cut him off with a subtle laugh, "I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine." He offered the old knight a hand up from the pew, and together they set off from the Great Hall.


	12. Chapter 12

"Milady..." A squeak near the doorway drew Zelda from her conversation. Her maid, Cara, entered and bowed. "I've brought Master Link for you. Should I show him in?"

"Yes, please," Zelda replied with a subtle smile. She sat with Darunia, Ruto, Impa, and Nabooru in her sitting room, at last removed from the suffocating court.

"There's someone with him too," Cara added, "an older man. Should I escort him in as well?"

"I suppose..." Zelda responded hesitantly. She thought it odd that Link would be accompanied by anyone. The door creaked open, and a sliver of light from the hall shined onto the sitting room floor as two men entered.

"Link!" Ruto gasped. The Sages rose to their feet and turned to face the newcomer, who ducked his head bashfully as he approached.

"My Sworn Brother!" Darunia's tone swelled with pride. He stepped forward to greet the young hero. "You know, you're always welcome in Goron City. It would've been nice for you to pay Link and I a visit once or twice."

"And I as well," Ruto added indignantly. "You're a terrible friend to not come see me once in five long years!"

"Ruto," Link stammered, "I—I..."

"Well, anyway," Nabooru laughed and slapped Link on the back, "it's good to see you, kid."

While the Sages turned their attentions to the Hero of Time, Zelda could not take her eyes off the strange older man who followed Link. His shaggy, sandy-colored hair was peppered gray like his beard. The thick bags etched beneath his piercing blues eyes gave him a weathered look. He seemed like a man who didn't know whether he was living in a dream or reality.

"Link," Zelda said quietly, "who is this man with you?"

"Um, well..." Link's gaze darted to the man's face and back to hers. He swallowed hard. "This is—this is Caedmon Aelstan."

"Sir Caedmon Aelstan," the man added. "Officer of the Crown."

The Sages exchanged confused glances and shrugs. Zelda's eyes grew wide, however, as a wave of shock washed over her. _Caedmon was an Officer of the Crown... a skilled swordsman... he lost everything that night... She and that baby boy meant everything to him._

_He may have left Hyrule altogether... It's more than likely he's dead by now._

"But that is not possible," she whispered after a moment of silence.

Link hung his head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Caedmon Aelstan took a step forward, tapped Link on the shoulder, and muttered something in the young hero's ear. Link nodded in reply.

"It's okay." He gestured toward the Sages. "These guys know... about my past."

Zelda stared back in amazement. Ever since he returned, Link had known that Caedmon Aelstan — his father— was alive, and yet he played it off as nothing. "Link," she said finally, "I thought you said you couldn't find him."

"Well," the young Hylian replied defensively, "actually I said it didn't matter— not after what happened here with the king and all."

Zelda felt a pang of guilt. _Why did Link always have to put others before himself?_ Even though she knew selflessness was in Link's nature, she wished he would open up to her without being forced.

As Zelda walked to greet the Hylian men, Caedmon Aelstan dropped to one knee with his head bowed and hand over his heart. "Your Majesty."

"Sir Aelstan." Zelda reached out and caressed his rough hands between her own. "The pleasure is all mine," she said softly and bade him to rise. At full height, he was only a few inches taller than herself. Zelda wordlessly searched the old knight's eyes, and discovered an intense sadness in the familiar shade of blue.

Still holding onto his hands, Zelda ushered Caedmon forward. He resisted for a half second, but wordlessly gave in. "Everyone," she announced, "I would like to introduce you to Sir Caedmon Aelstan— Link's father."

Silence followed Zelda's exclamation. The Sages stood still. All four pairs of eyes furrowed inquisitively on the queen, the hero, and the man they didn't know.

"Link," Nabooru broke the silence, "I didn't know you had a father?"

"What sort of question is that?" Ruto scoffed. "Of course he does— everyone does."

"Don't ruffle your fins," the Spirit Sage chuckled. "What I meant was that I didn't know his father was _alive_."

"Did you ever ask him?"

"No," Nabooru huffed and tossed her red ponytail over her shoulder. "But Link never mentioned him. He never mentioned any of his family. I just assumed they were—"

"I didn't know, okay?" Link finally cut in with a disgruntled tone.

All eyes in the room turned onto him in surprise. When he realized this, he muttered more softly, "I-I thought he was dead too."

"Nevertheless," Zelda interjected, "Sir Aelstan is part of our team now. If he is related to Link, then I am sure he can be trusted." She locked eyes with Caedmon and added a firm, "with everything."

"Hear, hear!" Darunia stepped forward to shake the old knight's hand. "It's an honor to meet the father of my Sworn Brother!"

"Indeed," said Nabooru. "You must be very proud of Link."

"We all are," Ruto added.

"I...err..." Caedmon took a step back. Zelda could tell by the baffled look on the old knight's face that Link had not told _him_ everything yet. She could only imagine how difficult the situation was for them.

"We're honored to have you here, Sir Aelstan." She closed the matter with a reassuring smile and turned to address the others encircling the room. "However, we must move on to why I summoned you all here. There is precious little time to waste."

Without a word of protest, the Sages retook their seats. Link and Caedmon remained standing by the fireplace.

"There are a few important matters we must discuss," Zelda began, "pertaining to sensitive topics not suitable for the Council's ears. As Sages, and trusted friends, do I have your oaths of secrecy?"

They nodded silently.

"And Caedmon..." she faced the old knight. "What I have to say relates to information only the others in this room are privy to; therefore, you must promise to only confer only with us concerning the questions I am sure you will have."

Caedmon nodded curtly. "You have my word."

"Thank you." The queen turned back to the rest of the group. "I have been racking my brain these past few days sorting through everything that has happened to find something I might have missed, something that might shed some light onto the Ten'al-tarian's motives."

"But we know what the Ten'al-tarians are after," Nabooru cut in. "They're after your crown, aren't they?"

Ruto's purple eyes grew wider than usual. "Do you think they might be after something more than just dominion over this realm?"

Zelda lowered her gaze. "We must at least consider the possibility."

"But what more could they want?" Nabooru scoffed.

The queen fixed the Spirit Sage with a knowing look. A moment of silence lapsed as Nabooru racked her brain. "No!" She finally gasped.

"But Zelda," Link added, catching on, "most people think it's only a legend. How could the Ten'al-tarians possibly know about it?"

"I believe it is time you all heard a legend of the Sheikah, long forgotten by most— the legend of Knowledge and Truth." Zelda turned to face Impa in the corner of the room. "Impa, if you would please."

"As you wish, Your Grace." The Sheikah bowed her head and walked to the center of the room. "Listen carefully. This is an unknown legend passed down by the shadow folk, the Sheikah.

"In a time of chaos following the Great Reunification, a brother and sister undertook a quest to compile the legends and myths passed down orally amongst Hyrule's many races. Their creation became known as the Book of Mudora. After the completion of their work, they settled at the base of Death Mountain and founded what would become Kakariko Village. However, the brother did not stay long. He no longer found satisfaction in the knowledge of what he'd seen and heard during his travels. The brother left the village in search of the Truth."

Impa spoke with a low, sing-song cadence that breathed a sense of mystery into her every word. The Sages, Link, and Caedmon leaned in to grasp every syllable.

"A decade passed," Impa continued, "and the brother was never heard from. In that time, the sister began to realize that so much knowledge in one location could only lead to disaster. She regretted creating the book and considered destroying it. She held out, however, until the day her brother returned, clearly changed, and claiming he discovered a way one could see the truth. He believed he could see his sister's deceit within her and tried to take the Book of Mudora for himself, but the sister, powerful in the ways of magic and clear of conscience, defeated her power-hungry brother and drove him from the village.

"In the wake of the battle, the sister turned the Book of Mudora over to the crown, vowing her loyalty to the monarchy. The brother swore revenge, and began to collect followers with lies and false promises. After seven long years, the brother led an army against the crown an epic battle, but to the brother's dismay, his army was vastly outnumbered. In secrecy, the sister had drawn together an coalition of men, Zora, Goron, and several ancient races to stand up to the insurrection. In their final encounter, the sister triumphed over her brother once more, at last putting the Sheikah uprising to rest. The brother was executed for his crimes and his followers banished into the mountains. They became known as the Ten'al-tarians."

An absolute silence followed Impa's story. Neither the Sages, nor Zelda, Link, or Caedmon made a sound. They all seemed to hold their collective breath.

"But what happened to this book?" Nabooru was the first to respond. "The one the brother coveted so?"

"Your Grace." The Sheikah nodded to the queen, who rose and took the floor.

"That is where things get interesting," Zelda said slowly. "See, Mercy Middleton was attacked in the library. When Link and I went to investigate, we found a book that I later confirmed had been infused with dark magic. The book was written in ancient Hylian, and its contents led me to believe it could be the one described in the tale. Many of the chapters detailed legends passed down by the Sheikah orally, and should never have been put to writing. Curiously, however, there were many pages missing—including several legends concerning the Triforce."

"What do you suppose that means?" Nabooru pressed, trying to mask her fears.

"I'm afraid we can only guess," Zelda shook her head, "and prepare for the worst."

"But even if the Ten'al-tarians were after the Triforce," Ruto added with a hint of desperation, "it is gone from the Sacred Realm."

"Czar-Aran does not know that, though," the queen replied. "Besides, if he could somehow amass the power to open the Door of Time— if he could somehow access the Sacred Realm— the consequences would be far more terrible than if he'd actually laid a hand on the Triforce."

"But he can't steal the treasure without opening the chest first," the Spirit Sage reasoned. "So if the keys remain hidden, then there's nothing to worry about."

Ruto nodded in agreement. "As long as the Spiritual Stones stay safe and sound where they are, the Ocarina remains with you, Your Majesty, and Link—" All eyes shifted onto the pensive young Hylian, "—if you don't draw the Master Sword, then Aran can't possibly..."

"I'm afraid," Zelda's voice rose over the Water Sage's, "it may sound simple now, but we have no idea what trials lay ahead. We can only take each day as it comes, and prepare for all possibilities, so that nothing catches us off guard."

* * *

Caedmon stood with his back turned on a small circular bedchamber, and gazed out a narrow window toward Death Mountain. He grasped the stone ledge for support, expecting to wake up from his dream at any moment. First Link and his story, then all the nonsense the queen and her gathering of races spewed about the Sacred Realm and the Triforce— either he was dreaming or he'd finally gone insane.

A loud clank sounded behind him, and a metal helmet rolled up against the old knight's ankles. He picked it up and turned around to face a disgruntled Link, who was sorting through the pieces of armor that had been laid out on the bed for him.

"I'm not wearing all this garbage." Link held up a chain mail shirt to examine.

"The 'garbage' is there to protect you," the old knight grumbled and dropped the helmet back on the bed.

"But how can it protect me when I can't move?" the young Hylian scoffed. "It must add fifty extra pounds!"

"It's made to be well-balanced," Caedmon replied, thinking back to his own days in the service.

Link gave an unsure sigh, and reluctantly slid the chain mail shirt over his head. It made a slinking sound as the tiny, metal loops shifted around. "Well, it's lighter than I expected."

"Kid, do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?" Caedmon shook his head, astounded by Link's nonchalant tone. "Joining the army isn't something you do on a whim."

"Ha— a whim!" Link laughed and slid his green tunic on over the chain mail. "There isn't a man, Zora, Goron, or Gerudo alive who's seen the things I have— or fought the monsters I've fought."

"You don't get it, do you?" Caedmon eyed Link narrowly. "The army won't care about what you say you've fought. All that matters is what you've done for them, and the fact you're so close to the queen won't make things any easier."

"And why do you say that?" Link huffed.

"Because soldiers talk as much as nobles do— only they tell it to your face."

"I don't care what they have to say," Link scoffed and tossed aside a leather brigandine. "If they want to talk about me, then fine. I'm going with Sir Dryden to defend the realm, not make friends."

Caedmon stood with arms folded across his chest, growing incensed. There was something strange about this kid— that much he'd garnered from the first time they met. He recalled the way Link calmly talked him down when he had the kid held at arrow-point, and how Link effortlessly fought off the cursed skeletons in the forest. What happened to Link in his past to make him so desensitized to conflict? Why did he jump at the chance to go to war? What had he seen? What had he fought?

"All right, that's it!" he finally burst. "I want to know what you're not telling me. Where and when did you do all this fighting? All this talk of Sages, and the Door of Time, and the Triforce— it's a bloody legend, you know! It's not real!"

Link stared blankly back at Caedmon, frozen in the act of fastening a leather gauntlet onto his arm.

"Well, isn't it?" the old knight urged, his tone wavering.

Again, Link said nothing. Caedmon watched as the kid finished pulling on the gauntlet and ran his fingers through his hair, clearly pondering something. "People are meant to think it's only a legend," Link finally said with a sigh. "If the general public knew it were real, there would be chaos."

A dizzying feeling gripped Caedmon once more. "Y-You are completely insane," he found himself stuttering as he backed up against the wall for support. "Do you actually expect me to believe—"

"You wanted to know the truth. I told it to you. I have no reason to lie to you."

Long-buried memories from Caedmon's life resurfaced— his mother dragging him to temple as a boy, his father lecturing him on the three virtues, Lydia going on and on about faith and piety— but one thing was consistent. He was always thought that the Triforce was a symbol, nothing more: a marker of hope for mankind, and a reminder of the three virtues one must strive to balance in life.

A strange sadness in Link's eyes, however, convinced Caedmon that the kid was telling the truth. Besides, the Triforce's actual existence wasn't any more unbelievable than anything else he'd heard so far. The old knight recalled the conversation he'd witnessed an hour before in the queen's sitting room, and he remembered something interesting. "Then the Zora... she said that the Triforce is gone from the Sacred Realm. How can it be gone?"

"Because someone found it," Link said bitterly. A hollow pain in the kid's tone knotted Caedmon's stomach. It was clear that Link had suffered over this matter, and his wounds had not fully healed.

"That can't be, though," the old knight muttered, remembering what he'd been told about the Triforce's legendary power. "If someone were to claim the Triforce, they would be a god, the most powerful being alive."

"That may be true," Link replied softly, "but he couldn't claim the whole Triforce. There was a catch." His gaze fell onto the polished surface of his shield propped up against the headboard. "The man who found it had an unbalanced heart. He could only claim the piece representing the force he most believed in."

"Power..."

"Exactly."

The old knight considered Link's words as he watched the kid shuffle through the pieces of plate armor. Based off of what he'd seen and heard since leaving the forest, it seemed that Link, the queen, and the Sages were the only ones who knew of the Triforce's disappearance— but that fact only confused the old knight further. After all, how could someone simply walk into the Sacred Realm and come away with a third of the bloody Triforce without anyone knowing?

"What happened to him, then? The man who took the Triforce of Power. Did you... did he... is he dead?"

"I don't think he can die," Link shook his head, "so long as he holds the Triforce of Power." The young Hylian pushed aside the rest of the armor and plopped himself at the foot of the bed. "Since we— Zelda, the Sages, and I— couldn't kill the man, we sealed him away in the Sacred Realm. If the Ten'al-tarians got in, there would be nothing but the seal preventing Ganondorf from escaping."

"Ganondorf..." The name sent a chill down Caedmon's spine. Piece by piece, snippets of the conversation he'd overheard in the queen's sitting room started to make sense— the Sheikah woman's story, why the queen was so worried about the Ten'al-tarian's motives, and where the Triforce had gone if it wasn't in the Sacred Realm... or part of the Triforce anyway.

"But if this Ganon character only claimed one piece," Caedmon mused aloud, "what happened to the other two?"

"It's... complicated." The young Hylian lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. "The Goddesses, they... picked out two poor souls to entrust the shards to— one for Wisdom, one for Courage."

"So there's two people just walking around out there with god-like powers?"

"I wouldn't put it that way."

The old knight couldn't decide which was more remarkable— that the Goddesses would entrust their power to a Hylian, or that these two individuals wouldn't abuse the blessing. "But these people would be more than mortal men," he reasoned. "Surely we'd know who they are."

"Caedmon, unlike Ganondorf, the wielders of Wisdom and Courage did not choose to become bearers. They were _marked._ " Link sat up and fixed the old knight with a glare so serious it made Caedmon's blood run cold. "If word got out about these people, they'd be hunted for their power."

"But you know who they are," the old knight whispered, "don't you?"

"Yes, I..." A soft knock on the door interrupted Link.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude." The door creaked open and the queen entered, unaccompanied by her guard. "The troops are gathering outside the walls and riding for Kenton. Link, I... I just wanted to see you before you left."

Caedmon's gaze flicked from Link to Zelda and back again. The wheels in his brain started to churn. He remembered his parting with Link in the forest, and how the Triforce symbol started to glow on the back of Link's hand.

_Something's happened at the castle... Something bad. I have to go._

And something bad had happened— the king had been murdered only hours before. But Link couldn't have known about it. The kid had been in the forest with him the whole time.

 _I have a hunch..._ that was all Link had said.

_A hunch that has to do with the Triforce glowing on the back of your hand?_

A mark.

How did this boy, who knew nothing of his past or the Hylian way of life, become friend of the future queen? Why did the leaders of so many races treat Link with the same respect they did their sovereign? How did he have such a terrifying command over magic? How did he become so skilled with the blade?

It explained everything.

He silently observed Link and Zelda conversing by the door. It was obvious there was a connection between the two more powerful than friendship— more powerful even than love. It made sense...

Link— his son— was one of the chosen bearers of the Triforce, and Zelda, the queen of Hyrule, was the other. It had to be.

"Caedmon," Link called. The old knight looked at him, really looked, and saw not a kid, but a man— and a troubled one at that.

 _The wielders of Wisdom and Courage did not chose to become bearers. They were marked._ As Link's bitter words resonated in Caedmon's mind, his heart ached. Why, of all the Hylians in the realm, did the Goddesses choose Link? What had he done to prove himself worthy of the tremendous burden?

"Caedmon," Link said again and fixed the old knight with a worried expression. "Do you mind, umm, stepping outside for a bit? I need to speak with the queen— alone."

The old knight blinked. "Oh... yes, of course." He crossed the room toward the door, but before he left, the queen called for him.

"Sir Aelstan..."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Oh, please call me Zelda," she replied with a smile. Her voice was lyrical and soothing.

"Zelda," he repeated.

"I'm sure we will have a chance to talk later."

"I look forward to it." Caedmon nodded. "Link, I-I'll— I'll meet you by the stables then... to see you off." The old knight took his leave with those words, gripped by a dizzy, numbing feeling.

On a cold spring morning thirty years ago, his wife gave birth to a son— his son— and that baby would grow up to bear the heaviest burden imaginable.

These thoughts and a thousand more swirled around in Caedmon's mind as he briskly made his way toward the castle grounds. He desperately needed some air.

* * *

The door clicked shut, leaving Link alone with Zelda for the first time since the council meeting. A moment of silence passed, and the queen said nothing. Link knew he was in for it.

"I can't believe it," he chuckled, trying to ease the tension. "The man never shies away from a chance to argue with me, then the second you walk in..."

"Link." Zelda silenced him with a cold, slightly hurt glare. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-I told you it didn't matter—It _doesn't_ matter."

"You cannot be serious." Zelda's eyes grew wide. "Of course it matters. He's your father, Link!"

"So what was I supposed to tell you? I'm sorry about your father the king, Zelda, but hey! I just found mine."

"That's not what it would have been like!"

"Oh? And how would it have been?" Link lowered his gaze and walked past her toward the window. The rain had moved on, leaving a cool wind in its wake.

"It would have been comforting," said Zelda in a more soothing tone. "A spot of joy amongst all the sadness."

"I shouldn't have gone in the first place." An exasperated sigh escaped Link's lips. "I knew something like this would happen if I left, but I let you talk me into it. If I had been here to stop Zel-Taren, none of this would've..."

"Stop this instant, Link!" the queen snapped. "Do not blame yourself for what happened to my father. He never should have trusted the Ten'al-tarians— ever! If anything, he was the cause of his own undoing!"

"Zelda, you don't mean—"

"Why can't you just accept this blessing for what it is?" She cut him off with an anguished plea. "Why must you always put others before yourself, even if it's a detriment?"

"Because happiness never comes without a price, Zelda," he replied bitterly, refusing to look her in the eye. "I can't sit back and watch other people suffer if I can do something to stop it— no matter what the cost."

"That's not..." She opened her mouth to protest, but Link pressed on as if he'd never heard her. "I could've gone on living just fine if I'd never found Caedmon Aelstan, but if something had happened to you while I was gone... I'd never be able to live with myself. Besides, why do you care so much about my happiness?"

Link felt her step closer to him. Her proximity made him nervous. "Don't you get it, Link? Your happiness is mine," she said with a hint of desperation.

"What?" Link choked. Her words numbed him so that he couldn't think straight.

Zelda must have noted his perplexed look. She rested her hand gently on Link's shoulder. "I like seeing good things come to you, because no one deserves them more."

Link finally turned to face her, daring to steal a glance. A reassuring smile illuminated her face, melting away his bitterness. _Seeing him happy made her happy? How?_ He didn't quite understand, but then again, Zelda usually thought two steps ahead of everyone else.

"Thanks, Zelda," he finally muttered. "It is a good thing— I know it's a good thing."

"You shouldn't need me to tell you that," she laughed.

He liked it when she laughed. In all the time they'd spent together, there hadn't been enough reasons to laugh. "The situation's just complicated," Link sighed, and bent forward slightly, hands gripping the windowsill. "I'm not used to opening up to people."

"You just met him, Link. I'm sure things will get easier."

A sarcastic huff escaped Link's lips. "They always do, don't they?" After all, what was he, if not a great adapter?

"So what have you told him so far?" Zelda's question refocused Link's attention.

"Enough," he stated flatly, causing the queen to roll her eyes.

"Be serious, Link," she huffed, clearly not amused.

On the contrary, Link was always sincere, just not as open as he knew Zelda would like. "Well," he said uneasily, "we'd just gotten past the 'Triforce is real part' when you walked in."

"I see..." Zelda's voice trailed off. Her brow furrowed in thought.

After a moment of silence, a thought occurred to Link— one he was surprised hadn't dawned on him earlier. "Can I ask you a question, Zelda— kind of a personal one?"

"Of course, Link." Her face lit up. "I'm an open book."

"You're so sure I should tell Caedmon everything— but you never told your own father. Why not?"

Zelda didn't flinch. A hint of regret flickered in her eyes, but when she spoke, it was with a tone of certainty. "Not a day went by in five years I did not wish to tell him." She reached for his hands and wove her fingers through his own. "But not even the Lens of Truth could have illuminated the facts enough to convince the king that my words were true."

"But you think Caedmon will believe me?" Link eyed her curiously. "He hardly knows me."

"He wants to, though," she urged, giving his hands a gentle squeeze, "and that makes all the difference. My father loved me, yes, but he never tried to understand me. The king only heard what he wanted to, and far too often, I spoke words which he did not welcome."

Link sighed. Zelda always seemed so certain. He studied the queen for a moment— the way the sun reflected off her hair, the way her tired eyes filled with hope and encouragement. The young Hylian couldn't help but smile.

"I'll tell him everything in time," Link said softly. "But there's just so much I... I can't expect anyone to believe..."

"I know, Link," the queen whispered. With one hand she reached up and tried to tuck his unruly bangs behind his ear. When they proved too rebellious, her hand came to rest on his cheek. "It's the burden we share together."

Link said nothing. She was so close that he could see his reflection in her sapphire eyes. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Zelda returned the gesture, and he felt her sigh against his shoulder. Link lost track of how long they stood there. It could have been seven seconds— or even seven long years— but for a brief moment, he experienced a peace of mind like he'd never felt before.

It made their parting that much more cruel.

"The sun is well beyond its peak," Link finally muttered. "I'd better head for Hyrule Field."

"Oh..." Zelda blinked. "Yes." She did not protest as the young Hylian pulled away.

Link's throat felt dry. He silently turned away and equipped the rest of his effects scattered across the bed. Finally, he reached to the bedpost for a dark green cloak and pulled it over his shoulders.

"So, do I look like a knight now?" he said proudly, adjusting the straps of his quiver and sheath.

Zelda shook her head hopelessly. "You didn't put on any of the armor Cara laid out."

"I put on this thing." Link poked the chain mail shirt beneath his green tunic. "I don't need anything else."

"Well, you still look like a rogue." Zelda flashed him a mischievous smile. "But if you add the helmet..."

"No way." Link moved between her and the bed. "There's only one hat I wear on my head."

Zelda fought to suppress a laugh. She reached for his arm, and they left the bed chamber side-by-side. As they wove their way through the castle corridors, every lord, lady, and servant bowed his or her head and muttered a quick "Your Majesty" to Zelda as she passed. They fixed Link, in turn, with confused glares— though the young Hylian didn't mind. Since the council meeting, he'd given up trying to hide from their watchful eyes, and refused to let their unwarranted judgments hinder his relationship with the queen.

"It's an honor to ride with the Knights of Faron," Zelda said as they turned a corner onto the cool grounds.

"You made the arrangements," Link shrugged.

"I figured it prudent. Your talents would be wasted as a mere foot-soldier. Besides, I'd like you to keep a close watch on someone."

Link's eyes narrowed on her, but he said nothing.

"If things take a turn for the worse," Zelda continued, "we may find that our power and the Sages are not enough to defend the realm. If that time comes, we'll want the right men on our side. You and I know one such man— a powerful leader and skilled fighter."

"I don't—"

"I'm talking about a man capable of leading a great resistance—a man who always needed that little extra push in order to realize his true potential."

"I still don't—" he began to say again, but as soon as he opened his mouth, a thought occurred to him, and slowly a picture began to form in his mind piece by piece. Link had known such a man once— but it had been in another lifetime. A young man with a bushy brown mane and unkempt beard, staggering out of a bar. He had been known around Kakariko Village as Draven the Drunk— or Draven the Mad. But in this time and place, he was known as Dryden de Vaux— a respected knight and the son of the Duke of Faron.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to remember," Zelda whispered.

"I have a hard time recalling the faces of the people I met back then— except the ones I killed."

"It's best we all start remembering some of the past," the queen said sadly. "We may need those memories yet."

"Please don't say that."

"I only speak the truth." She turned quickly to face him and met his eyes with a blazing look. Silence followed.

They reached the crest of a rolling hill on the edge of the grounds. Link could see the stables nestled in the valley below. He paused for a moment as he struggled between leaving without another word— which might have been the easier option— and turning to face the queen again.

"Caedmon's waiting for you," Zelda finally whispered. "I will take my leave and let you say goodbye, but first, I have something for you." She withdrew a small golden trinket from her pocket. It glistened in the cool sunlight.

"Zelda, I don't need..."

"Just hold still." She fastened the gift onto his cloak. It was shaped like a bird— a familiar symbol he recognized from the royal family crest. "It's customary for a lady to give her knight a token to take with him into to battle." She smiled and adjusted the clasp.

"Oh, so I'm your knight now?" Link fought to suppress a grin.

"No," Zelda said curtly. Her eyes watered as she looked up into his face. "You're my hero. You always will be."

Link found it difficult to return her gaze. Knowing he had to leave, it was too painful— but Zelda ignored this. To the young Hylian's surprise, she leaned up and kissed his brow. He could only blink and stare back silently. But as Zelda flashed him a reassuring smile, he knew, at that moment, they understood each other perfectly. He didn't have to say anything.

It took every ounce of Link's strength to turn his back on Zelda and begin his descent down the hill without her. With every step, he wished she would turn away, so he wouldn't have to feel her eyes on the back of his head, tempting him to turn around. Finally, he rounded the corner of the stables. The smells of hay and horse greeted him. Caedmon leaned against the door of Epona's stall, stroking the mare's nose.

"That's a nice gem," Caedmon noted as Link approached. "Don't remember seeing it when I left."

"It's just a gift," Link replied nonchalantly.

"A gift from the queen of Hyrule is not 'just' a gift."

"It's from a _friend,_ " Link stressed, "and I'm done discussing it." He opened the stable door and coaxed Epona out.

"So... should I even bother asking what's the deal between you two?" The old knight said slyly.

Link flashed him a testy look. "No."

"That's what I thought," Caedmon chuckled. Something about his all-knowing tone made Link's insides squirm. The old knight passed Epona's saddle to Link, and the young Hylian wordlessly tossed it over the mare's back. Link could feel Caedmon's gaze bearing down on him as he furiously fastened the straps.

A noise between a snort and a laugh escaped the old knight's lips. "Ha! And I thought I had it bad."

"What are you talking about?" said Link indignantly.

"I'm talking about falling for a woman way out of your league. I mean, I've been there done that, but the queen of Hyrule— that's pretty lofty, don't you think?"

Link could only muster a weak "Shut it" in reply, a fact which didn't escape Caedmon. "See, you can't even deny it," he retorted.

Link fastened the last buckle on the saddle, stood up, and wheeled around to face the grinning old knight. "She was my friend before she was the queen of Hyrule." An odd bitterness laced his tone. "She was my friend before I even understood what a princess was, and she's the only person in this whole kingdom who completely understands what I've been through—"

"—and you don't like sharing her," Caedmon cut in, causing Link to choke on his words.

"What?"

"You don't like sharing her with everyone else," the old knight reiterated. "You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous... I'm just... it's just different," Link huffed. "Our relationship's mostly involved saving the realm from the neglect of one king or another, and now she has all this responsibility— it's different."

Caedmon said nothing else. With Epona hitched up, Link led her to the end of the stable. "In all seriousness, Caedmon, I want you to keep an eye on Zelda while I'm gone. Protect her in my stead." The young Hylian mounted the chestnut mare. Epona tossed her head, eager to leave. "Zelda's safety is far more important than my own."

"No. You coming back in one piece is important." Caedmon grabbed hold of Epona's bridle to steady the horse, and sought Link's eyes. "This isn't the first time I've bade farewell to someone I... to someone... from these stables, and I couldn't take it if things turned out like last time."

"Nothing's going to happen to me, Caedmon—"

"—but you don't know that!" he barked. "No matter how many unique abilities you possess, you're still only a man of flesh and blood."

"You're starting to sound like Zelda."

"Well," Caedmon flashed him a knowing look, "she does seem like a wise woman."

"You have no idea," Link said with a smile; however, the strange sense of understanding in Caedmon's eyes seemed to hint otherwise. Link began to wonder how much the old knight picked up on, but quickly forced those thoughts to the back of his mind. They would have to wait.

Pink clouds streaked across the sky over Castle Town, where the lamplighter was probably making his rounds while Bertie poured mugs of ale at the Bumper, and men and women closed up their shops and carts for the day. Everything was so normal. Link wondered how long that would last. "Please don't worry about me, Caedmon," he finally said, with his eyes on the horizon. "There will be time for us when I return, I promise. But for now, we must do our part to protect Hyrule."

"Nayru's Love," the old knight chuckled sadly, "you really are Lydia's son."

"And when I come back," Link replied, "I want you to tell me exactly what that means."

"Aye." Caedmon nodded. "That's something I can agree to." He reluctantly released his grip on Epona.

Without another moment's hesitation, Link gave Epona a subtle nudge in the sides, and the chestnut mare lurched forward, leaving the old knight behind in a wake of dust. Link was on his way to war once more.


	13. Chapter 13

A hundred men had already gathered outside of Castle Town Gate by the time Link trotted up on Epona, but only a handful rode under the green banner of Faron. No one said anything when Sir Dryden introduced Link—"He's a friend of the queen and an experienced fighter. By order of Her Majesty, I ask you to embrace him like a brother." The young Hylian, however, could tell by the men's narrowed looks and tight-lipped frowns that they weren't overjoyed by his presence.

They left the rendezvous point at sundown and rode through the night. The torchbearers brought up the front and rear of the riding party. The banner-men's green flags, trimmed in gold, flapped in the breeze. A knight with a pointed helm like a hawk's beak flanked Sir Dryden. Beside Link rode one of the largest men he'd ever seen, larger even than Bertie Gerhardt. His skin was black as the night sky, and he had five piercings in each ear. He wore only leather riding breeches and carried nothing but a oddly curved knife at his waist.

Link hardly took his eyes off Sir Dryden for the whole of the short journey. The Officer of the Crown rode proudly at the front of his men, decked in silver plate armor atop his brick-colored steed. He was a knight on the surface and a polished nobleman underneath, hardly the man Link knew from all those years ago...

Link remembered Draven Black dimly— the way his brown hair fell past his shoulders, the way his bloodshot eyes regarded Link with a defeated gleam, and the way he stumbled around with a mug of brown ale glued to his hand. He'd fled to Kakariko after Ganondorf's minions locked his family in their home and burned them alive. Link never knew why the King of Evil wanted them dead. Draven, a boy of fourteen at the time, escaped the purge, and survivor's guilt turned him into a drunk. Link thought it incredible how drastically circumstances could alter a man.

They arrived in Kenton, the military headquarters of the realm, at the break of dawn. Thousands of tents and campfires spotted the dark field, making land and sky look like mirror images of each other. The Black Wall of Kenton loomed in the distance, completely shielding the city on the other side from view. _And_ _harm,_ Link thought as they drew closer. The wall was twice as high as the white stone one that surrounded Castle Town. Five flames danced along its edges, twisting and turning up into the sky like Flare Dancers.

When they reached the edge of the sea of tents, the riding party from Castle Town splintered into three groups, each heading for their respective encampments. Dozens of green banners rustled in the morning breeze where the Army of Faron awaited. Men, and even a few women, hustled out of their tents to bow to their commanding officer as Sir Dryden trotted by.

Beneath the tallest green banner, a tent ten times the size of the others had already been erected. An older knight with gray eyes and shoulder-length locks of silver-blonde hair stood watch outside the entrance. He bowed as Sir Dryden approached and dismounted. The pink light of dawn reflected off his well-polished suit of armor, which clanked as he patted Sir Dryden on the back.

"A meeting's been called in the High Tower. All knights should attend." The old knight handed Sir Dryden a scroll of parchment stamped with a red seal.

"Aye." Sir Dryden nodded and examined the letter. The silver-haired knight pulled back the tent flap and welcomed the young officer inside. The other riders dismounted, tied up their horses along a line of posts outside the tent, and followed suit. Link copied their motions.

The air inside the Great Tent was warm. A fire burned low and hot beneath a hole in the center of the canvas top. A girl with a plait of raven hair scurried about, fetching blankets and stirring a pot of sweet-smelling stew on the fire. Link smiled weakly as she handed him a thin, cream-colored quilt, but she hustled off before he could thank her.

Sir Dryden hunched over a table near the far side of the tent. The silver-haired knight stood at his right side and the knight with the hawk's beaked helmet stood at his left. With the helm in his hands, Link could see that he, too, was an older man. Long patches of white streaked his shaggy auburn hair. _Are all knights either gray with age or green of youth?_

"And what of the men?" Link heard Sir Dryden ask. "What is our count?"

"One-hundred seventy-six at last inspection, twenty-four of them knights." The silver-haired knight pointed at a map on the table. "We're the smallest army so far, though we're still waiting on the Ackerleys with all the strength of Ordon, and the Waynwoods and the d'Auvrechers as well."

"What of the lazy half-wit who runs the ranch?" Sir Dryden removed his helm and handed it to a kid who couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. "What's his name?"

"Talon?" The silver-haired knight shook his head. "No word from him, my lord."

"It's probably for the best," said the knight with the hawk's beaked helm. "He runs the ranch with naught but the help of his daughter and a loony stablehand."

"True, but we still need their mounts." Sir Dryden spoke with the same tone of authority he'd used when Link first met him outside the deserted market. "I don't care what you think of Talon as a man, Sir Euron, but he raises fine horses. Find a squire to send, someone fast. Give him everything he needs to make it there and back in four days' time, and tell them they'll be rewarded if they do."

"It will be done, my lord." The silver-haired knight nodded.

Sir Dryden sighed and removed his gloves. "If that's all, then, I would like to take my leave. Many thanks, Sir de Beauchamp. Fetch me when the Ackerleys arrive."

The knights bowed and turned to leave as Sir Dryden disappeared behind an emerald tapestry. Silence swept the tent after they departed, leaving only the six non-knights in the main room. Link thought for a moment he might say something, but a man with curly orange hair flashed Link a testy look that made his freckled face look like it was on fire ... l _ike Mido when he gets mad._ Link fought to suppress a laugh.

The red-head rolled his blanket out at the foot of the fire and the others followed suit, strategically placing themselves to block Link from the circle. _Just like_ _Mido..._ Link was used to playing the role of outcast. Not wanting to cause trouble, he rolled out his blanket beside a stack of wooden crates piled against the edge of the tent, a safe distance from the fire.

Link tried to sleep, but he worried too much about what he might see in his dreams to find peace. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the camp stirring outside— armor clanking and rattling as knights passed, the hooves of horses beating against the green earth, a whetstone grating against steel... and two men talking in hushed voices just beyond the thin canvas.

"A kingdom's only as strong as its king," one of the men grumbled. "That's what my father used to say. King Auberon was too soft— allowing those Gerudo thieves a place on the high council— it's disgraceful."

"Ah, but Doran," a younger man chimed, "we must remember they're part of the realm now."

"Too soft." The older man, Doran, spat. "That was the king's problem. He had no backbone... not after the queen passed."

"Surly there's some good to be said of him though. King Auberon fought in the Civil War back when he was still a prince. I heard he fought gallantly."

"Aye, that he did, but Queen Cordelia's death more than ruined him. It drove him mad... I'm afraid he may have passed that madness on."

 _Zelda..._ Link's anger flared as he listened. He carefully inched closer to the edge of the tent and pressed his ear against the canvas.

"Doran," the younger man lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "What you say borders on treason. The queen is only a child, and a woman to boot. We should give her time."

The old man, however, did not back down. "If we're to go to war, we're gonna need better than a child and a woman," he said sternly, and paused before adding, "I heard she's taken a commoner to bed."

"Well, he's a lucky one," the young man chuckled dryly. "Say all you want about her, Doran, she's a pretty little thing, our queen."

"Aye." The old man spat again. "But that's what started this problem to begin with. Good looks don't win wars, Alyn. Like I said, a kingdom's only as strong as it's king. And what do we have? A female child who thinks the shadows in her dreams are real."

Only then did Link realize he'd subconsciously gripped the hilt of his Kokiri blade as he listened, and his knuckles turned white as he squeezed it in his palm. Link never fully realized the scope of the mockery that Zelda endured for just trying to reveal the truth. In his naiveté he'd forgotten that prophetic dreams weren't normal.

Link heard nothing else from the men beyond the canvas, and assumed they'd left. However, their words continued to torment the young Hylian. Unable to think straight, let alone sleep, Link quietly slipped his gear on and decided a walk might clear his head.

The crisp sound of clashing steel met Link's ears when he emerged into the bright, autumn sunlight. A few tents over, two boys practiced with dull blades. Beyond them, a merchant peddling knives with dragonbone hilts and arrows with crimson fletching shuffled through the rows past a trio of giggling girls wearing thin silks. They batted their eyelashes and lifted their skirts just high enough to draw the men's attention as they passed the openings of their tents.

The encampment was like a mobile town that shot up in the field overnight. In all of his travels, Link had never seen so many swords and shields in one place, let alone so many men to wield them. He wondered darkly where they all were when Ganondorf laid siege to Hyrule Castle... _No!_ Link clutched his fists, and shook his head, not wanting to let such thoughts sink deeper. He turned to walk north where the Black Wall of Kenton loomed above the camp like a tall shadow.

Standing at the base of the wall, looking up, Link couldn't tell where the structure stopped and the sky began. Zora's River crashed against its northern and western sides and divided it from the mountains beyond. Link finally understood what Zelda meant about the difficulty of an attack from the west. The Black Wall of Kenton could not be breached from land by the power of man alone. But it wasn't the power of man Zelda feared...

"Look at this lovely boy."

Link blinked at the sound of a woman's voice and spun around. To his surprise, he stumbled backward after nearly colliding with the stranger, hovering only inches away from him. She wore a red bodice laced so tight Link thought it might burst. Dozens of rings and bracelets decked her arms and jingled as she moved.

"Such a lovely, lonely boy," another woman, wearing a heavily-beaded green dress, echoed behind the first. With their bright red hair and dark skin, the women could have been mistaken for Gerudo if not for their thin noses and sky-blue eyes, accented by thick globs of dark make-up.

"I'm not lonely." Link stammered and took a step back. "I'm—"

"He looks troubled," the woman in the red dress tutted in a breathy voice. She slid her fingers onto Link's shoulder. "What does such a pretty boy have to be troubled about?"

"I-I should get back to my tent." Link took one last step back, but hit the wall, and could not retreat further.

"He's prettier than you, sister," said the woman in red as she sidled up to his right.

"And you, sister," the woman in green echoed and pressed herself against Link's left side. He felt like he was trapped in a Deku Baba's jaw. "Why don't you come with us, pretty boy?"

"N-no thank you," Link stammered as he spun away from the women's grasp. They fixed him with looks of mild amusement like they wanted to play a game of Catch the Cucco— and he was the Cucco. He'd met a few whores in his travels, mostly in Clock Town, and they always made him feel uncomfortable. "I-I mean, thanks for the offer and everything, it's just—"

"That he only fucks with royalty," a nasally voice cut in. Link turned around and saw the five men he thought he'd left behind in the tent walking toward him.

"Excuse me?" Link gaped as the man with the curly ginger hair brushed past him. In the daylight, Link realized that comparing this man to Mido may have been too harsh... he was way uglier than the Kokiri boss. So many freckles spotted the ginger's face, he looked like he'd bathed in mud. When he laughed, his mouth revealed rows of crooked, yellowing teeth.

"But as for me..." the ginger chortled, ignoring Link, "my standards aren't so high, and it's been a long time since I've seen such perfect breasts." He backed the green-clad whore up against the wall and planted a wet kiss on her neck.

Link had seen enough. He wanted nothing to do with the girls, and even less to do with this man who obviously didn't like him. As Link turned to leave, however, the four other men encircled him. Link drew eye-level with the dark-skinned man's navel. He look up to find the man's expressionless black eyes regarding him stoically.

"Please step aside," Link huffed. "I don't want to cause any trouble here."

"Too late," the ginger sneered. He leaned up against the Black Wall and draped his arms lazily around the whores' shoulders. They giggled as he drew them closer. "I don't think I've introduced myself. The name's Phineas Forthwind, son of Feallius Forthwind, the De Vaux's Master of Household."

"Good for you." Link rolled his eyes.

"The twins beside you are Levi and Leouric." Link recognized the black haired twins as the banner bearers from the march. "They're bastards who work for my father in the De Vaux's manor. They were spying through the window as you snuggled up to the queen beside the watering hole. Long Face there, that's Marron Ashford, son of Micah Ashford, the De Vaux's cook. He prepared a plate of biscuits for you to nibble on while you waited for the Duke. And that Goron-sized man, that's the Exile— he fed and watered your horses while you were inside."

Link recalled what Caedmon said about how soldiers like to talk, but it didn't stop him from growing incensed. "Why's he called the Exile?" Link asked, trying to ignore Phineas' remarks. He felt weird talking about a man right in front of him, but the Exile didn't seem keen to contribute.

"What kind of horse-shit question is that?" Phineas gawked. "Because he's an exile, of course."

"I get that," Link huffed, "only why was he exiled?"

"You're dumber than you look. He killed a man, of course. What else do you get exiled for?"

"Well, that's wonderful," Link sighed. "And now that we're all introduced, I'll just be on my way—"

"We're hardly finished yet, Link." Phineas cut him off. His lips curled, baring his crooked yellow teeth. "We know what you're up to, so don't play coy with us. We saw you sidling up to the queen at the De Vaux's not but a week ago. The Duke felt a war comin' on when he was summoned to Castle Town and brought us along to serve under his son. We were waiting at the gate when you came sauntering back to Castle Town, takin' your sweet time. We thought we were waiting for a hero of some sorts, the way our order sounded, 'let no one pass except for Link, escort him directly to the queen.' Imagine our shock when the hero turned out to be the queen's little bitch?"

It sounded bad, Link knew, but he had to defend himself. He had to at least try and make them understand... "You've got it all wrong," he said carefully. "I'm not the queen's lover, but I can help. I've fought many battles before. I—"

"Oh, you can help, alright," Phineas snickered. "You can start right now, actually. Tell me, Link, since we all might die tomorrow, there's no sense in being shy..." His hands casually grabbed the top of the women's busts bursting from their lacy bodices. "How do these compare to the queen's? If I've gotta die for her, I'd like a mental picture to take with me to the grave."

Link said nothing. He clenched his jaw and fought to hold his tongue.

"No comment, huh?" Phineas snorted. "Are they that bad?"

"She's your queen." Link's anger flared. "So you might want to talk about her with a little more respect."

"Oh, so the rookie does speak." His comment drew a chorus of laughter from all of the onlookers except the Exile, who remained as stoic as ever. "Well, she's your queen too," Phineas added, "but that didn't stop you from fuck—"

Link snapped. In one swift motion, he drew his knife from his belt and shoved Phineas up against the Black Wall. The women around his arms squealed with delight and retreated... _did they all think this was some kind of game?_ Link move closer and pressed the razor-sharp edge of his Kokiri blade against Phineas' scrawny neck. _Do it..._ a voice in his head urged... _he deserves it. He insulted your queen... he insulted Zelda._

But before Link could take another step, the Exile wrapped one of his Wallmaster-sized hands around Link's shoulder and pulled him back. With one hand, the man was strong enough restrain the young Hylian.

Phineas coolly brushed himself off, walked up to Link, and poked him in the chest. "Your little rendezvous with Her Majesty might have bought you a spot amongst our ranks, but don't expect any special treatment from us—"

"Is that what this is about?" Link's voice shook with fury. "Do you really think I'm only here because of my friendship with the queen? You mustn't think very highly of Zelda if you think she'd stoop so low."

Phineas hacked and spat a thick glob of saliva in the dirt. He ground it deeper into the mud with the toe of his boot. "All I know is that I've been trainin' like a dog with the De Vaux's Master of Arms, and workin' like a dog for the family, all to prove myself to Sir Dryden. Then he brings you here, tells us you have some sort of experience we don't, and we're supposed to jus' take you in? What do you have that I don't?"

Link fixed Phineas with an icy glare. "Gee, where to start?"

Phineas' knuckle slammed into Link's cheek. He licked his lip and tasted blood. It hurt like a bee sting, nothing more. "Hah..." Link spat a mouthful of blood at the ginger's feet. "You must feel really tough now."

"Shut up or I'll hit you again," Phineas sneered. "Your business with the queen, that means nothing here. Besides, I like mine with a little more expirience." He beckoned to the whores, who giggled as they bounced to Phineas' side. He wrapped his hands around the women's waists and flashed Link a crooked, yellow smile. "Let him go, Exile. I think he knows his place now."

Link felt the bone-crushing grip constricting his arms ease up. Circulation returned to his fingertips. . _The fool thinks he's a tough guy.._ Link thought as Phineas turned to leave. _He thinks that war is some sort of game._

The others followed the ginger like stray pups, but before they reached the first line of tents, Link called out, "Have you ever killed a man, Phineas?" He rolled his shoulders back and wiped a trail of blood from the cut on his lip. "Have you ever killed anything besides a Cucco for your supper?"

"And I suppose you have?" Phineas' yellow eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Bullshit," he spat. "Hyrule hasn't been to war in thirty years."

 _The fool thinks killing is a game too..._ Link sheathed his Kokiri blade and stepped closer to Phineas. "I've killed a man." He said slowly, without blinking. "I've killed hundreds of sword-bearing, blood-thirsty creatures bred to do nothing but kill... So don't you dare talk to me about experience until you know what it's like to watch the life leave your foe's eyes while you twist your blade through his chest. I'm trained to kill my enemies, Phineas, son of Feallius. I suggest you don't become one."

Link walked past the ginger, his cronies, and his whores to find Epona. If a walk couldn't help clear his head, perhaps a ride would.

* * *

On the morning of the last day of August, four days after the king's death and two days after Link rode off with Sir Dryden's men, her father was laid to rest in the Royal Family Tomb. A late summer rain closed in around the graveyard as the queen descended into the pit. Five hundred years of Hylian kings and queens were buried in the shadowy subterranean sepulcher, their souls protected by Sheikah magic. The air smelled of incense and damp decay. The cool underground chill sent a shiver down Zelda's spine.

The High Priest led the procession. A trail of silver smoke flowed from a jeweled thurible clutched in his fist, and a round altar-boy waddled in his wake, pudgy fingers wrapped around the leather binding of an old prayer book. The casket followed, hoisted onto the shoulders of the men on her father's privy council, with Zelda close behind. The members of her household guard, including Sir Ventripont and Impa, flanked her sides. They held torches in the air that gave off an eerie green light against the subtle blue hue of the stone walls.

Her six remaining ladies and Darunia, whose close proximity in Goron City allowed for his attendance, completed the group. It was a sad, small party to accompany such a great man to his final resting place, but such were the times. _Surly her father would understand._

Zelda, donning black silks, kept her head bowed and hands folded in front of her as they trudged along. She could just make out the sound of rain pounding on the earth above her. Finally, they came to a room at the end of the winding tomb, with a narrow aisle down the middle that led to a carved stone dais. Two pools of green misting water— traps to ward off evil spirits— ran along each side of the walkway. They reached the dais and waited as the High Priest recited from a poem inscribed on the stone wall in Ancient Hylian:

_"The rising sun will eventually set, A newborn's life will fade. From sun to moon, moon to sun... Give peaceful rest to the living dead."_

To the right and left stretched tunnels that seemed to continue forever. Niches perforated the dark hallways, each housing the tombs of a king and queen pair— or in a few select cases, a queen and her prince consort. Stone statues graced the lid of each sarcophagus, carved in the likeness of the man or woman buried below. Zelda felt their blank stares following her as she passed, reminding her of the last time she visited the tombs...

She could not have been older than five or six. Impa had taken her as part of her history lessons. They'd walked up and down the dark aisles as Zelda recited back the names of Hyrule's great kings and queens, now her predecessors. _It should have been her father that took her..._ Zelda thought, feeling ashamed. _His father had taken him to see the crypts, and his father's father. It was her birthright..._ But the king never so much as set foot in Kakariko, let alone the Royal Family Tomb, since his queen passed— until now.

The procession came to a halt before the statues of two figures Zelda recognized instantly— one of a woman with a thin face and a long braid wrapped tightly around her head, the other of a man with a full beard and square jaw. There was no trace of melancholia in his tall, proud stance. Because he's with her now. Where he always wanted to be...

The priest swung his thurible back and forth, filling the niche with sweet smelling incense. An odd feeling of bitterness gripped Zelda as she starred up into the expressionless, stone faces of her queen mother and king father. _He has her now,_ Zelda thought, but really it was the other way around. _Queen Cordelia always had King Auberon..._ so much of the king's heart belonged to his sweet wife that there was hardly room for his own daughter. King Auberon finally had his queen, and what did Zelda have? A war to fight, an entire kingdom to defend, and a people to win over.

When they emerged from the crypts, a dim overcast light greeted them. The rain had already moved on, and a cool breeze swept across the graveyard grounds in its place. A dozen guards waited outside the tomb to keep the sizable crowd of villagers who gathered to mourn a safe distance from the entrance. They sent prayers to the goddesses and muttered reverent "Your Majesties" as Zelda passed. A few even threw their flowers at her feet.

As the stablehands prepared the carriages for departure, Zelda spotted Sir Caedmon Aelstan standing apart from the rest, feeding a carrot to a sandy-colored gelding.

"Your Majesty." The old knight bowed respectfully as she approached. "I trust the service was to your liking."

"Fair enough," Zelda replied. She reached up to pat the sandy old horse's wrinkled nose. "Though I am glad the deed is done. The dead have their place, as do the living."

"Aye, milady," he said in a strained voice. "Though I might be a happier man if my dead would remember that."

Zelda flashed him a weak smile. In a way, he was very much like her own father. Caedmon too lost the woman he loved long ago, and wore his heartache openly for the world to see. But there was something different about the old knight as well. What it was exactly, Zelda could not quite place. "Sir Caedmon," she said with an air of dignity, "I would be honored if you would ride with me back to the castle."

The old knight seemed taken aback at first, but remembering his manners, responded with a quiet "The pleasure would be all mine, Your Majesty."

Caedmon offered her a cold, rough hand into the lavish gold-detailed wheelhouse. They each took seats on plumb-colored velvet benches facing one another, and rode in silence back through Kakariko. Zelda kept the curtains open and watched as old men, women, and children stopped in their tracks and poked their heads out of windows to catch a glimpse of the passing carriage. However, as the town became nothing but a speck of light on the mountainside, Zelda drew the curtains closed, and turned her attention back toward the old knight.

"I'm sorry we have not talked since Link left," Zelda began with all the pleasantries of a gracious host, "though I trust Impa made your arrangements comfortable."

"Don't worry about me, milady. I don't need much."

"Just like Link." Zelda couldn't help but smile.

"Hmm..." Without a window to look out of, Caedmon's distant gaze fell onto the rustling curtain. He kept shifting his hands from his lap to the bench beside him.

"I know the situation must be terribly uneasy for you right now," said Zelda, noticing the old knight's discomfort. "It will take some time to adjust to, but you must know, you are an incredibly lucky man to be able to call Link a son."

"Can I, though?" His eyes shifted. "Can I call him that when I don't know him at all?"

"You will in time, I'm sure of it. Link does not talk about himself often."

"I can see why," he mumbled.

Zelda silently regarded the old knight for a moment. At first glance, he looked very much like Link with his blonde hair and blue eyes. The differences became more apparent the longer she sat with him. He had a square jaw, broad nose, and thicker brow as opposed to Link's slender face and sharp, thin features. While Link's hair was bright blonde like the sun's rays, Caedmon's was a dark, sandy blonde, the color of hay.

"He told you some pretty unbelievable things, did he not?" Zelda shifted to a more serious tone. "Sir Caedmon, it's only human to doubt—"

"Oh, I believe him all right," the old knight said with a sigh. "I don't want to, but I do. Link strikes me as many things, but a liar isn't one of them."

"He's been fed too many lies by those he's loved and trusted... myself included." A familiar guilt gnawed at Zelda's stomach, making her feel sick. " I don't think he's capable of such deception."

Caedmon shifted in his seat. "Your Majesty, if I may—"

"Please, Sir Caedmon," she cut him off. "If I insist Link call me Zelda, I should expect no less from you. "

"Only if you will call me Caedmon, then. No 'sir's." His haunting blue eyes met hers for the first time since they entered the carriage. " _Sir_ Caedmon died quite a while ago."

"Very well." Zelda held his gaze. The sadness it conveyed sent a shiver down her spine. "What is it you wished to ask, Caedmon?"

"Given everything, you know, with Link, err... I only wanted to know how you two—"

"How we met?"

"Yes, Your Maj— Zelda. If I may be so bold."

 _A reasonable question, Zelda mused. Her entire court wanted to know more about the nature of her and Link's relationship; why not his long-lost father?_ Zelda moved from her bench seat across from the old knight to sit beside him. She took one of his cold, calloused hands in her own and held his gaze as she spoke. "Link found me at a time when I felt most alone. I turned around, and there he was... with his child-sized shield and sword strapped to his back and his fairy bobbing up and down by his shoulder. He believed me when no one else would." She looked away. "But I betrayed that trust."

Caedmon's eyes narrowed with curiosity. "How so?"

Zelda blinked. "Another story for another time, I'm afraid." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, wanting so badly to tell him more, but knowing that the responsibility rested with Link alone. Instead, the young queen smoothed her black silk skirts and sat up tall and straight. "Caedmon, as fascinating as Link is," she said in a more formal tone, "he's not the reason I wished to speak with you. I have need of you at the castle. I have need for every man and woman who knows the truth. I pray you know which truth I speak of."

The old knight nodded slowly.

"When we return to Hyrule Castle, I will set about appointing my staff. I mean to fill those positions with people I can trust." She paused. "Do I have your trust, Sir Aelstan?"

"Aye..." His brow furrowed with curiosity. "That you do."

"Good." Zelda smiled. "Then I would like to make you my Groom of the Stool."

The old man stared back at her in disbelief and shook his head. "Your Majesty," he said, "certainly I'm not worthy."

"You're modest, Caedmon. I only need my Groom of the Stool to be someone I can confide in. If you know the truth, than surely you understand why it must be you."

"I'm humbled by the offer, Zelda, but with all due respect, I rather wish to remain sidelined for this war... if indeed it should come to that."

The young queen had a feeling the old knight would refuse her offer and had her response prepared. "Caedmon, you know better than I that if it comes to war, no one should remain sidelined."

"I don't want to fight, Your Majesty, I mean Zelda—"

"I said nothing of fighting." She held up her hand to silence him. "Only of being my counselor, my confidant. I will not ask you to take up arms for me or lay down your life for mine, if you chose not to wield the sword you carry."

Caedmon glanced sideways to the sword propped on the bench beside him and exhaled heavily. "Ma always told me it's bad manners to refuse your betters."

"When Hyrule bleeds," the young queen pressed, "we feel it from the desert to the mountain tops— Hylian, Sheikah, Gerudo, Zora, and Goron alike."

"I know..." Caedmon winced.

"Then you accept?"

"I do."

"Wonderful." The young queen beamed and moved back to the bench opposite the old knight. "We will make everything right again, Caedmon, you will see. The Ten'al-tarians have their secret weapon, but they do not have the Hero of Time. The gods will favor us, I know it."

She withdrew the Ocarina of Time from her pocket, pressed it to her lips, and filled the carriage with a smooth, sad song. Caedmon watched her play with a look of wonder, fear, and recognition. Zelda recalled her chance encounter with Zel-Taren at the stables, but the old knight's unblinking stare was one of reverence, not lust.

"You've seen this ocarina before," Zelda stated when she finished her song.

"Aye.." he bowed his head. "There's no other like it."

For something that was supposed to be legendary, a lot of people seemed to know about it. "How so?" Zelda pressed.

"Normal ocarinas are made of clay. That one is made of blood."

"I suppose..." Zelda looked down at the instrument that seemed to exude an eerie blue light. There was too much truth in the old knight's words. "Perhaps that's why it sings such a sad song. How do you know of this instrument?"

"It belonged to your mother."

Zelda blinked. "You knew my mother?"

"I did." The old knight nodded. "Lydia thought the world of her. We might've never married if it weren't Princess Cordelia."

"Really?" Zelda's eyes grew wide. "I would love to hear more."

The corners of the old knight's lips turned into a faint smile. "I was the son of a blacksmith; Lydia was the daughter and heir of a duke. Lord Theode Adalmund lacked many things, but pride was not one of them. He had Lydia courting little lords and foreign princes by the time she was eight. When she finally confessed to her father that she planned to marry me, he tried to ship her to Selbee to wed some pompous boy-prince. Lydia begged Princess Cordelia to annul her father's pact, and graciously the princess obliged."

"I'm sure the duke appreciated that." Zelda laughed, but the old knight's bitter tone drowned it out.

"Lord Theode was a bloody coward and a crook," he spat, "blinded by his own sense of self worth. He, he..." Caedmon began to say but choked on the word. Before Zelda could bid him continue, the old knight shook his head and changed the subject. "But let's not spoil the ride with talk of him. It was your lady mother you asked about. Princess Cordelia was like an older sister to Lydia. What she lacked in physical strength, she made up in strength of character. I was sorry to hear of her passing from Gustaf on our way from Ordon."

"Well, it happened some time ago... she died in childbirth." Zelda explained. "My father never recovered from it."

"I find that hard to believe," Caedmon tutted.

His response took Zelda by surprise. "Why do you suppose?"

"Well, he still had you, didn't he?" The old knight replied sheepishly. His ever-youthful blue eyes regarded her with a warmth that made Zelda smile sadly.

"Sometimes I don't think it mattered."

"Hmm..." Caedmon's brow furrowed in thought, and he replied with a curt, "That's absurd." Before Zelda could ask why, the old knight added, "if I had known thirty years ago that Link survived, I-I think... everything would have been different, that's for sure."

"Of course everything would have been different, Caedmon. Every action sparks a hundred reactions, most of which not intended."

"I still can't help but wonder if I had done something different..." The old knight shook his head and muttered almost incoherently, "such a burden ...if I had been able to give him a home, if I could have saved her, would he—"

"Caedmon," Zelda cut him off. She placed her hand gently on the old knight's knee. "What's done is done, and we can't live in the past with a future in front of us."

 _Says the girl who turned back time..._ Zelda's thoughts flitted to the Master Sword lodged in the Pedestal of Time. She blinked and fought to suppress the feeling of old guilt. "Nevertheless," the young queen looked up into the old knight's eyes, "I can assure you that while fate denied Link many of the pleasures of a normal Hylian upbringing, he's never been unloved— and isn't that what matters in the end?"

For the first time, a real smile broke out on the old knight's face. His blue eyes sparkled full of hope— _the difference between him and my father,_ the young queen realized. _Caedmon may have been lost for a time, but he never gave up the fight... He still has hope._ Zelda pressed the Ocarina of Time once more to her lips, and this time, filled the carriage with the sound of her lullaby— a song for hope and peace and love.


	14. Chapter 14

_"It's the only way..."_

_Link stood ankle-deep in water along a thin, rocky shoreline. Behind him, a sleek, black wall loomed so tall it blocked out the moon and stars. He heard nothing except the calm beating of waves against rocks._

_Hundreds of stoic, forward-facing men lined the shore to Link's right and left. Their hands dangled loosely at their sides, holding no weapons nor shields. Lightning cracked overhead and thunder shook the black wall, but not a single man flinched, twitched, or even showed a slight change of emotion. They remained so silent Link couldn't even tell if they were breathing._

_"The only way..." the omnipresent voice called again._

_"Who's there?" Link shouted and spun around. "Show yourself!" The voice seemed to emanate from the wall itself. The other men didn't appear to hear it._

_Another bolt of lightning struck the far shore, split the rock, and kicked up a cloud of dust. When the rubble settled, a hooded figure stood in the place the rock had cracked._

_"Who are you?" Link demanded, but the figure only laughed in response. It seemed to be moving closer— across the water itself! A flicker of red and violet light reflected from underneath the faceless hood, and a blood-red jewel hung from the figure's neck._

_"I will stop you!" Link shouted. He instinctively reached for the sword on his back, only to find air. "I will never let you—"_

_A deep, throaty laugh echoed though the valley, stifling Link's threat. With long pale fingers, the hooded man twisted the red jewel. It glowed like fire in his hands. Suddenly, a blinding light shocked the valley, and the black wall melted away; the water at the stranger's feet turned to blood and spread outward until it devoured the whole river. Streaks of silver rose to the red surface and drifted downstream— the corpses of fish and Zora._

_"Stand and fight!" Link shouted and turned to face the other men. "Stand and—" but they, like the wall, had vanished. The dead stood in their place— thousands of corpses with black sockets for eyes and rusted armor hanging over their loose, rotten skin. They all turned to face Link._

_In a flash, a wrinkled hand leapt from the water, grabbed Link by the ankle, and pulled him into the river of blood._

Zelda! _Link screamed as he groped desperately for the surface. The glares of the dead men pressed down on him as he kicked and clawed for the surface. He saw the glass eye, cool and unblinking, as blood rushed over him._

Zelda! _Link tried to yell, but his lungs filled with warm, thick blood. All around him the glass eye blinked red and violet, seeing everything..._ Zelda!

"Zelda!"

"What in Farore's name is the rookie screaming about?"

"His queen lover... squalling baby."

"Somebody kick him."

Link felt a sharp pain in his side. "Zelda!" he gasped and shot up. Dirt and sweat covered his body. His blankets lay in a tangled heap at his feet. Link reached for hand around his ankle, but it was gone.

"Are you tryin' to wake the entire camp?" An angry, nasal voice met Link's ear. His stomach dropped when he looked up and saw four pairs of eyes glaring at him... _like the dead men's._

"You heard me, didn't you?" Link groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Heard you?" Phineas Forthwind squawked. "The whole bloody camp heard you!"

"How much?"

"Oh Zelda, Zelda!" Phineas cried in a high, effeminate voice and pretended to faint into the outstretched arms of horse-faced Marron Ashford.

Link's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, but he couldn't ignore the contents of the dream. It had been the most terrible of all, and his memories of the black wall, the river of blood, and the dead men's faces still burned fresh in his mind. Link stood and brushed himself off. "I need to speak with Sir Dryden immediately."

"Ha! Who does this guy think he is?" Phineas sniggered. "I mean really? And just why do you suppose Sir Dryden would care about your wet dreams?"

Link eyed the sneering ginger narrowly, but held his tongue. _He's not worth it..._ Link tried to tell himself as he hastily reached for his belt and boots... _he's not worth it_. As soon as Link took a step toward the emerald tapestry, however, Marron and the twins blocked his path.

"Not this again..." Link groaned as Phineas' cronies encircled him. The young Hylian knew he could have taken down every one of them— even the Exile, sitting cross-legged by the fire— if he'd so chosen, but tearing through Phineas and his cronies wouldn't solve Link's problems. "Please step aside."

"Not till you tell us why you're gonna bother our commander with your nonsense." Phineas stood in front of Link with his arms folded across his chest.

"It's none of your concern, Phineas." Link let out a frustrated sigh, but the ginger didn't budge. "It's just... I think something bad is going to happen—"

"Well of course something bad's gonna happen!" Phineas threw his arms up in frustration. "We're going to war! Or did you just now figure that out?"

"No," Link rolled his eyes. "This is different..." _Thousands of dead faces, a river flowing warm and thick with blood._ "It's something terrible."

"He's as crazy as his queen lover," snorted Levi, one of the black haired twins.

His brother, Leouric, echoed, "She thinks the monsters in her dreams are real as well."

"You know what?" Phineas held his chin in his hands. His yellow eyes narrowed onto Link and his puffy lips curled into a sneer. "I think the lad had little nightmare about Her Majesty keeping her royal bed warm with some other commoner's—"

White-hot anger flared inside Link. He leapt forward, drove Phineas into the ground, and laid one good, clean punch on the ginger's absurdly-freckled face. A stream of blood trickled from Phineas' pug nose. Link felt it warm on his knuckles. "Is this all some kind of game to you?" he growled. "Are you so keen to hate me because you know I could soundly kick your—"

"What in Farore's name is going on out here?" Sir Dryden emerged from behind the tapestry, holding a candle in one hand and a sword in the other. His amber eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of Link standing over Phineas, whose bloody nose and cheek had started to swell. "Link, have you lost your mind?" he stammered. "Get over here." The young knight motioned toward the tapestry. "Aelgar, you come too."

The Exile didn't speak as he rose from his place by the fire. He crossed the main space of the tent in four long strides and ducked beneath the tapestry. Link cast one last glance toward the bloodied ginger on the floor and hung his head. A wave of shame washed over him as he followed Sir Dryden through the tapestry.

The room beyond was smaller than the main space, but still comfortable. Link's eyes wandered over an unkempt bed, an end table stacked with a loose pile of books, a wooden desk cluttered with unfurled scrolls, a mannequin sporting Sir Dryden's polished suit of armor, and a barrel from which the young knight drew two goblets of red wine. Sir Dryden handed Link one cup, kept the other, and sank into a chair behind the desk. The way the young knight tipped back his goblet for a deep sip reminded Link eerily of Draven Black— both the freedom fighter and the drunk.

Link's gaze flickered from the cup in his hand to the dark-skinned man whose head brushed the canvas ceiling. His hands were large and strong enough to crush Link's skull between them as easily as if it were a moth. Link wondered darkly if that was why Sir Dryden brought him along... at least, that's what Phineas probably thought.

"What, don't you drink?" Sir Dryden asked over the top of his cup.

"No," Link shook his head, looking again toward the Exile. "I mean yes, but, I only thought that—"

"Aelgar doesn't drink," Sir Dryden cut in.

"Oh..." The young Hylian took a sip. The wine tasted bitter and pricked his throat. "Does Aelgar talk?"

"Yes." A soft chuckle escaped Sir Dryden's lips. "He talks. He reads, too, and writes, in more languages than one. Most importantly, he sees everything."

Link nodded and took another sip. It burned less than the last one. Sir Dryden tipped his goblet up once more for a long gulp, swallowed hard, and set the cup down with a clatter.

"So, Link," the young knight said with a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "Care to tell me why you were pummeling poor Phineas?" His tone was conversational and not at all angry. "Keep in mind that Aelgar will tell me if you're lying."

Where to start? Link wondered. He exhaled and carefully considered how to proceed. "I-I had this dream," he slowly unveiled, "a nightmare, actually, and woke everyone up. I wanted to come talk to you, but Phineas and the others got in my way." Link squeezed the goblet in his hand tighter. He paused and took another sip. "He keeps making cracks about Zelda and I." Link's voice rose as more venom crept in. "We're just friends, though!"

"Hey, Link." Sir Dryden held up his hands. "No one here is doubting your honor, or the queen's, for that matter. Phineas only mocks you because he feels threatened by you."

"But all I ever did was try and stay out of his way."

Sir Dryden half-laughed. "Link, as long as you're part of this camp, you're in his way. Phineas thinks highly of himself because he's served my father's household his whole life. For someone not born of noble blood, that's a powerful position to be in. Powerful friends are a man's greatest asset. That's how the system works, and Phineas knows that."

Link shrugged. "But what's that got to do with me?"

"Think about it." Sir Dryden flashed Link a knowing look. "As well-connected as Phineas is, you're at a level he can scarcely comprehend. You're best friends with a powerful, beautiful woman, the likes of which Phineas could never dream of standing in the same room with."

Link ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't understand the nuisances of Hylian lifestyle and was quickly losing faith he ever would. "This is a game I don't know how to play," he sighed. "I came here to help defend the realm, not meddle in politics."

"I'm afraid the two go hand-in-hand," Sir Dryden replied honestly.

"Not always," Link muttered and shook his head. "Only when both sides have something to lose..."

As he spoke, Link wondered if the Ten'al-tarians had anything to lose. He set his half-empty goblet down on the desk and paced the room. _Was there anything Czar-Aran wouldn't give up for a piece of Hyrule— or worse, a piece of Hyrule's power?_

"I know this is going to sound crazy, Sir Dryden," Link pressed, "but you have to hear me out. The Ten'al-tarians are far more dangerous than we realize. The weapon they boast of having—I think it's some sort of black magic."

Sir Dryden's mannerisms changed. The young knight's amber eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened, and he sat up straight in his chair. "That's a serious accusation, Link." The laughter left his voice. "Why would you say that?"

"It- It's the dream I had," Link said slowly. "It wasn't just a dream, though. It was... err..."

"Prophecy." The Exile finished Link's thought. His voice sounded like a roll of thunder.

"Yes..." Link's eyes grew wide. The Exile's expression remained as stoic as ever, and for a second, Link thought he'd heard things. With his eyes glued to the tall, dark-skinned man, Link continued, "I-I know it sounds crazy, but I've had this dream before. Well, not this one exactly, but others like it. I think they're all connected. They're about the Ten'al-tarians and... what's coming."

Sir Dryden's chin rested in his hands folded on the desk. He looked over at the Exile. "Aelgar, what have you to say about this?"

Aelgar the Exile fixed his black eyes, like two endless tunnels, onto Link. "In Ele'Daz, we believe that dreams are the vehicle through which the gods communicate to man."

"Hmm..." Sir Dryden nodded slowly, mulling over the Exile's words. "And what happens in these dreams, Link?"

Link remembered the conversation he'd overheard the previous morning between the men who ridiculed Zelda for crying prophecy. The last thing Link wanted was to give the soldiers another reason to mock him, but Aelgar seemed to believe him, and Sir Dryden trusted Aelgar, so...

"Well, at first," Link started slowly, shifting from side to side, "I only dreamed of a wedding in the Temple of Time. It was Zelda's wedding to the Ten'al-tarian prince. Then this hooded figure with a glass eye started appearing, first at the wedding, then he came alone. Slowly, the dreams became more and more about him."

"What does he look like?" Sir Dryden urged, brow furrowed in thought.

Link lowered his gaze. "I've never seen his face— only a flickering light beneath his hood. He twists a blood-colored gem between his fingers..." _Thousands of dead faces, their black, empty eye-sockets turned onto him... the glimmer of light flashing red and violet._ Link cringed and pressed on. "In the last dream, I was standing on a rocky shore beneath a black wall. When the man twisted the jewel, the wall melted, the river turned to blood, and suddenly I was surrounded by corpses. I woke up as a hand reached out and pulled me into the river."

Silence swept the tent. Sir Dryden tapped his fingers on the desk top. His brow furrowed as he thought. "Concerning, to say the least," he muttered and turned to the Exile. "Aelgar, what do you suppose?"

"I think it means the boy was right," the Exile said in a deep, monotonous voice. "Black magic."

Link blinked, hardly believing what he was hearing. "S-So you trust me then?" It was too easy.

"Honestly," Sir Dryden looked directly at him as he spoke, "I don't know. Black magic is so... cowardly, but these Ten'al-tarians just might be the type. Murdering the king in his own castle— stabbing him in the back, no less—it's despicable."

"The king's death," Link added, "the girl's disappearance— they can't be coincidences."

Sir Dryden nodded, brow furrowed. After a long pause, the young knight leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Well, if that's all, then, I have a lot to think about. You may go, Link. I'll talk to Phineas in the morning."

Link blinked. "But... if you trust me, then—"

"I trust that you might be on to something," Sir Dryden cut him off, "but you haven't seen anything I can raise an alarm about."

"But if you believe me," Link interjected, trying not to sound too hasty, "then shouldn't the men be warned about what they're up against?"

"But what are they up against? Do you really know, Link?" Sir Dryden laughed half-heartedly. He rose from his seat, goblet in hand, and filled it once more from the wooden barrel in the corner. "The queen tells me you're somewhat of a mercenary. You may have fought in many battles, but your display with Phineas tonight proves you don't know how to lead." He took a deep gulp of wine and sat back down. "Let me give you some advice, Link. Men tend to fight best when they feel they can win. No matter what sort of weapon the Ten'al-tarians possess, we have to meet them in the field, but my men won't stand a chance if I scare them shitless ahead of time."

Link opened his mouth to argue, but Sir Dryden had a point. In his experience with prophetic dreams, Link had never seen anything particularly useful— only warnings which filled him with dread. They had to fight the Ten'al-tarians no matter what sort of weapon or magic they possessed, and as much as Link didn't like the prospect of blindly stumbling into battle, he refused to surrender without trying.

* * *

Zelda's back and shoulders ached from hours of sitting on the golden throne— a rigid and cold chair. She held court every morning after breakfast, and though the work was tedious, she understood it was necessary. On the morning of the fifth day after the king's passing, however, Zelda had a job to do that she'd been dreading all week— she had to release three men from posts they'd occupied her whole life.

Out of the four members of her father's privy council, Zelda kept only Godric Benedict, the Master of the Hunt, of whom she was fond. Much to her father's dismay, Godric had made a decent archer out of the young princess, and she had been ever thankful.

She replaced her father's secretary, Barnabus Gerasim, with dutiful Hadley Ethelberg. Tears trickled down the old man's jowls as he removed the badge of his office and placed it in Zelda's glove. When she pinned it onto Hadley's dress, the seamstress' daughter's brown eyes glowed with pride.

Next, Zelda made Amery Middleton her Keeper of Coin in place of Percival O'Toole, who was too blind to count Rupees anyway. Amery and Mercy Middleton were orphaned as babes and raised by Madam Odile, the castle librarian. Raven-haired, pale, and thin as bones, Zelda did not know two more humble, intelligent young ladies. Silent tears fell from Amery's gray eyes as she knelt to receive the badge, undoubtedly thinking of her missing twin.

"Lord Absalom de Caulmont," Zelda called. She had intentionally saved the most difficult appointment for last. Her father's Groom of the Stool stepped forward, a look of loathing on his pointed face accented by his sharp widow's peak. Zelda had thought long and hard about how she might compensate Absalom, knowing that he would feel slighted no matter what. He would scoff at jewels and already owned Snow Hill Manor, a stone fortress nestled in the frost-covered hills north of the castle, but Zelda knew the one thing he loved almost as much as his position...

"To you, Lord Absalom de Caulmont, I present my father's sword. Also, I offer you your pick of horses from the Royal Stables to take with you to Snow Hill, and..." Zelda cringed as the words formed half-heartedly in her mouth." I will promise to uphold my father's wishes by keeping your daughter, Veronica, at court, where I'm sure we can arrange an advantageous marriage for her."

Zelda needed to separate Veronica from her scheming father, though inside the young queen wanted nothing more than to ship her lady back to Snow Hill... _Court would be so much more peaceful._ Zelda thought the settlement more than a generous offer. If only Absalom saw it that way...

Impa presented the scowling lord with her father's gold-hilted, two-handed sword. He took it, unsheathed it half-way to examine the blade, and growled, "Do you take me for some kind of cheap whore you can cast aside?" He jammed the sword back into its sheath.

Zelda remained unfazed. "You will address me as Your Majesty, Lord Absalom. And I took you for a loyal servant of Hyrule."

"Ha!" The former Groom of the Stool chuckled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "First you elevate a seamstress' daughter and an orphan girl to higher offices. Then you say you'll do the daughter of Absalom de Caulmont a favor by keeping her at court while you cast out her lord father? Spare the flatteries, Your Majesty, and your petty gifts." He threw her father's sword down at the foot of the throne. The clanking sound reverberated off the walls. "I know what you want," he spat, his brown eyes filled with venom. "You just want me out of here. Do you deny it, Your Majesty?"

Zelda's gaze flicked from the sword back up to the seething face of the man who did his best to make her childhood miserable. "I do not have to explain my actions to you, my lord." Her tone remained cool as her volume increased with each word. "It is my prerogative as your queen to fill my council with those who are loyal to me. You may have been a friend to my father, but you are no friend of mine." She paused to allow the words to sink in. "Sir Ventripont, show Lord Absalom the door. See that he is given everything I promised... and that he has enough supplies for the journey back to Snow Hill."

Sir Ventripont nodded and descended the steps toward Absalom, but when the guard put his hand on the former Groom of the Stool's shoulder, the lord spun away. "Save your guard for when the Ten'al-tarians come knocking down your door." He ripped the badge of his office from his surcoat, flung it beside the sword on the floor, and marched down the long corridor toward the great bronze doors. Sir Ventripont looked back at Zelda, not sure of what to do.

"Follow him," the young queen instructed. "Return only when our former Groom of the Stool's been restored to his wife's side at Snow Hill."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Sir Ventripont clicked his heels and saluted Zelda before following Absalom. Whispers filled the hall as the head of her personal guard departed. Zelda glanced over at Veronica, standing to the far left side of the dais with a bored look on her face. The lady-in-waiting leaned over and whispered something to Lady Rhoslyn Bourdekin, who covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

At the base of the steps, Impa bent down, retrieved the badge Lord Absalom tossed aside, and returned it to Zelda. Over the mounting murmurs of the hall, Zelda's voice rang out. "As my Groom of the Stool, I name Sir Caedmon Aelstan, Officer of Arms."

Following her announcement, the whispers grew in both volume and intensity. Zelda suspected that few people, if any, in the hall remembered Caedmon from thirty years ago. The noblemen and women cast confused glances toward the throne, but Zelda ignored them and pressed on. "Sir Caedmon served under Grand Master Bourdekin during the Civil War and has always been a loyal servant of the realm. I am sure he will offer me appropriate council during these most turbulent of times."

Caedmon stood along the right side of the throne with the other members of Zelda's newly appointed privy council. When Zelda called his name, the old knight sheepishly walked forward and knelt before the throne. The High Priest anointed Caedmon's head and shoulders with oil, asked the old knight to recite vows of honor and duty, and promise to uphold the virtues of Power, Wisdom, and Courage. When the High Priest finished, Zelda pinned the Groom of the Stool's badge onto his navy blue surcoat.

"Rise, Sir Caedmon, Groom of the Stool," she said. The old knight placed a kiss on the back of Zelda's glove and stood. He smiled weakly as he returned to his place beside the other council members.

"Thank you, Lord Faisal," Zelda acknowledged the High Priest, and turned to face the open court. "If that is all, then..." she began to say.

"Wait! Your Majesty, please, I must speak!"

A member of the royal guard escorted a limping boy, no older than the queen herself, into the hall. He was incredibly thin with long arms and legs. Coarse black hair drooped into his eyes, making him look like one of the stray dogs that roamed the market at night. He wheezed and huffed as he painstakingly wobbled down the long corridor, leaning heavily against a wooden crutch.

"Impa," the young queen turned to her caretaker. "Draw a chair for the boy." The Sheikah nodded, fetched a stool from the side of the room, and set it down at the edge of the steps. The boy muttered a weak, "t-thank you," as he clambered for the seat.

When he seemed settled, Zelda asked softly, "What is your name, boy?"

"B-Benjamin, Your Majesty." His gaze shifted around the hall. "B-Benjamin Gerhardt."

"Benjamin..." Zelda repeated. "And what grievances do you wish to lay before the court today?"

The boy took a heavy gulp and shivered uncontrollably as he spoke. "W-we didn't make it, Your Majesty. We didn't even make it out of Hyrule. The path south of Lake Hylia... they ambushed us."

Before Zelda could ask for clarification, the guard who escorted Benjamin added, "The boy was a member of the riding party Sir Bourdekin dispatched to Borhan with our treaty."

Zelda's heart leapt into her throat. She sank back into the golden throne, feeling every ounce of its weight pressing down on her. "I see..." she said in a distant tone. "This is most grave."

Naturally, her first thought was the Ten'al-tarians... _but they couldn't breach the path south of Lake Hylia._ They would have had to pass through dozens of settlements around the lake, all mobilizing for war. _Surly someone would have noticed the enemy lurking at their doorstep..._

"Benjamin," Zelda called, forcing a steady and sure tone. "I know this might be difficult for you, but I need you to recount for me what you saw. You mentioned that you were on the southern road leading to Borhan when you were ambushed. How many riders made up your party?"

"F-Five, Your Majesty." The boy looked at his quavering hands as he spoke. "Sir Ronnell Bourdekin, the Grand Master's own son, led us. No one survived but meself."

A shrill cry filled the hall and made Zelda jump. The young queen looked to her left just in time to see Lady Rhoslyn, Sir Ronnell's daughter, collapse in a wave of silver silks. Veronica, thinking fast, caught the body and gently lowered Lady Rhoslyn to the floor as a wave of pandemonium swept through the corridor.

Zelda's face paled as she looked to Impa at her immediate right. The unflappable Sheikah wordlessly acknowledged Zelda with a nod, strode across the dais, and knelt beside the collapsed noblewoman. As Impa muttered a Sheikah healing spell and Veronica dabbed Lady Rhoslyn's forehead with her silk sleeve, Zelda turned back to the court.

"Order!" The young queen's voice rang out. She stood tall at the front of the dais, looking out over the hall. "This court must come to order!" Hundreds of pairs of eyes looked up at her, and the roar of confusion dulled to worried whispers. Zelda's focus shifted once more to the frightened, young soldier.

"Benjamin," she forced a dignified tone, "do you recall anything of the attack?"

"S-sure..." he swallowed hard and nodded. "C-coulda been two men, coulda been ten. They worked from the shadows like they was waitin' for us, Y-Your Majesty. They didn't take nothin' neither— the horses, the food, the wine, the clothes off our backs..." the boy's voice trailed off.

 _It couldn't have been Moblins or Bokoblins,_ then, Zelda thought. They were pillagers and thieves who wouldn't have left the bodies behind. "Benjamin," she stated, "can you recall how this happened?"

"A-arrows, Your Majesty. They took out Sir Ronnell first, n' got me in the leg, n' me horse in the neck. The beast fell on top o' me and I passed out from the pain of it all."

Zelda nodded as she took in the boy's story. "Did you catch a glimpse of the aggressors?" She pressed, seeking more. "What sort of armor they wore, the color of their eyes or their hair, perhaps?"

"Jus' one, Your Majesty, n' no more than a flash right before I passed out."

"And..." Zelda pressed, holding her breath.

"They didn't wear no armor, Your Majesty. Only suits made of bones that rattled as the walked."

 _Stalfos..._ Zelda thought, but Stalfos didn't use bows and arrows. Bone armor would have obscured the enemy's facial features and didn't posses any markings to give them away... _too clever,_ Zelda thought, _to be anything but the work of men._ She was certain that whoever they were, the enemy had known the convoy was coming. The knights weren't carrying Rupees or jewels. They even left the food and wine. No... the only thing worth taking from the poor knights was the message they carried.

"Anything else, Benjamin?" Zelda asked calmly.

The boy looked up. Tears welled in his black eyes. "Y-yes Your Majesty. S-see, when I woke up, I pulled the arrow from me leg an... an I brought it back." He winced as he shifted on the stool and drew a bloody arrow with crimson fletching from his waist-belt. Impa took the arrow, turned it over in her hand, and brought it up the steps to Zelda.

"Look at that crimson color, Your Grace," the Sheikah said as she handed Zelda the sleek weapon.

The young queen ran her finger along the brilliantly-colored feather. "Impa, what do you suppose...?" she muttered, looking up into her caretaker's red, expressionless eyes that seemed to notice everything.

"I know the maker, Your Grace." The Sheikah bowed her head. "That's a Hylian arrow, I'm sure of it. The Ten'al-tarians only use black fletching."

* * *

The sun was at its peak on the sixth day after the king's death when Malon arrived from Lon Lon Ranch with no less than thirty fine horses. News of her arrival was like music to Link's ears. Eager to see a familiar face, the young Hylian rode with Sir Dryden— always the knight and nobleman— and a handful of others to greet her outside the camp. When Malon pulled up ahead of the horses, however, the typically collected, courteous Sir Dryden tensed up, and a split second later, burst into a fit of laughter.

"I send for Talon of Lon Lon Ranch," Sir Dryden chuckled atop his brick-colored steed, "and he sends me his daughter instead?" The men around the young officer echoed his laughter, except for Link, who knew better than to cross the ranch girl.

"And what's that supposed to mean, good knight?" Malon's eyes narrowed on the commander. Her cheeks flushed as red as her hair.

"Well," Sir Dryden managed to say between laughs, "it's only that I heard the man's so lazy he can't sit a horse without falling asleep."

"Well, I'm surprised you can still sit a horse with your head so far up your ass," Malon spat.

"Come now, milady," Sir Dryden chuckled, "that's no way to talk to a commanding officer."

"Commanding officer?" Malon's eyes grew wide. "I didn't know the Hylian army was run by Moblins."

"Oi, someone fetch some water." Sir Dryden slapped his thigh. "The ginger's on fire."

The men burst into another thunderous chorus of laughter. Link bit his bottom lip and struggled to remain as stoic as the Exile. He eyed the normally reasonable and respectable Sir Dryden suspiciously as Malon only grew redder.

"Watch yourself, knight," she said coolly, "I'm doing you a favor by lending you these horses."

Sir Dryden sighed and replied in a more steady voice, "There are no favors in war, milady, only what must be done."

"What must be done?" Malon smiled mischievously. In a twirl of purple skirts and leather riding boots, the ranch girl swung from her horse and slapped it on the rear. "Ha!" she shouted. The stallion whinnied and charged toward Sir Dryden. Before the young knight could regain his reins, his horse reared and ejected him from the saddle. Sir Dryden landed on the grassy hill with a thud, and the men burst into another round of laughter.

A satisfied grin broke out on Malon's face. The ranch girl rushed forward and drew an arrow from her quiver. She firmly placed the muddy heel of her boot against the young knight's chest and thrust the arrow into his face. "I'll let you borrow my horses," she gloated, "but only if you bring 'em back to the ranch yourself when the war is over. That way, you can personally thank my father for all the hard work he's put into raising such fine horses."

"All right, all right," a noise between a cough and a laugh escaped Sir Dryden's lips. "I'll return—"

"Swear it." Malon pressed the tip of the arrow against the young knight's cheek.

"On my honor as a knight, the grace of the three Goddesses, and my mother's gave, I swear I will personally deliver the horses back to your farm, providing I live through the war—"

"Oh, you will." Malon gave Sir Dryden a firm nudge with the heel of her boot. "The rotten ones always do." Without another word, the ranch girl tossed her red hair over her shoulder and whistled for her mount. She grabbed the horn of the saddle and pulled herself up while the stallion was still in motion. With one last loathing glance, the ranch girl whistled for her dogs, and rode off toward the river.

When she was gone, Sir Dryden peeled himself from the dirt and brushed off. "What a woman..." he chuckled. Link couldn't tell whether or not the young knight was being sarcastic. The other men laughed nonetheless.

"I've never seen a woman corral so many horses." Sir de Beauchamp, the silver-haired knight, shook his head. "And to lead them on her own across Hyrule Field?"

"Her father must be mad," Sir Euron added. "What if she'd been attacked and the horses stolen?"

"I'd feel sorry for any bloke who'd try to attack that one." Sir Dryden exhaled. "She's got Din's Fire in her." With a half-smile, he swung back onto his brick-colored steed and gave the signal to return to camp. Link nudged Epona forward, but the stubborn mare rooted herself to the hill and snorted her disapproval. As the other men filtered past, Epona jerked her head in the direction Malon took off.

"Fine..." the young Hylian huffed. The wild mare didn't need a second cue. As Epona charged down the hill, Link noticed a dark cloud circulating in the western sky above the mountains. _An eerie omen..._ he tensed as he thought.

Link found Malon on the bank of Zora's River, tossing a stick into the water for her two black dogs to fetch. The young Hylian pulled up alongside Malon, who was humming a doleful song to herself, and dismounted. She fell suddenly silent, but didn't turn around, as Link unsaddled Epona.

"The nerve of that man!" Malon seethed, staring out across the water. "Insulting my father when he's not here to defend himself, it's cowardly!" The dogs returned the stick, and she hurled it again with more ferocity. "If those are the men in charge of protecting the realm, then the war's as good as lost."

Link opened his mouth to say something, but thought otherwise when Malon whirled around and fixed him with a furious look. "And you?" She stormed up to him and poked him in the chest. "What are you doing following him like a mindless Bokoblin? I'd thought you'd at least have more sense than that!"

"Malon," Link gulped, "I think you're being a little hasty to judge—"

"Link," the ranch girl seethed, "the man insulted my father. He insulted me! Who does he think I am?"

Link wasn't sure how to respond. He liked Sir Dryden and didn't understand why the young knight made such an ass of himself in front of the ranch girl. It wasn't like him.

Malon let out a weary sigh and flipped her long, red hair off her shoulders. "You know, when I was a little girl, I actually prayed that a knight in shining armor would come and sweep me off my feet. In my dreams, all knights were handsome, chivalrous, and brave."

"I bet many knights are those things." Link's thoughts flitted back to Draven Black. "Including Sir Dryden." As Malon muttered curses under her breath, Link found himself defending Sir Dryden out of loyalty to the memory of a broken man he'd once helped fix. "I-I know Sir Dryden acted like a fool back there, but he's not as bad as you think." The ranch girl shot him a bone-chilling look, but Link pressed on. "This morning's been pretty tense. It's been six days since the king's death... the Ten'al-tarians could strike at any time—"

"Then your new friend should save his frustration for the Ten'al-tarians," she snapped, "and leave my father out of it." Malon placed a soft kiss on Epona's nose and looked up at Link. "My father's a good man, and he has a big heart..." An uncharacteristic vulnerability flickered in her blue eyes, hinting that something Sir Dryden said upset the ranch girl more than Link initially realized. "I wanted to bring the horses myself... I begged father, actually. I was afraid if he took them, he wouldn't make it to camp in time. Father can still sit a horse, but he's not as quick as I."

"No one's as quick as you on horseback, Malon." Link chuckled casually. "And you don't have to defend your father to me. I like him. He's only ever been kind to me."

"Thank you, Link," Malon whispered. A soft smile illuminated her face. "That means a lot."

They left Epona to graze with Malon's bay stallion and made their way toward a warm rock beside the river. Link kicked off his boots, letting the refreshing water rush over his feet, as one of Malon's black dogs splashed over to him and dropped a slobbery stick in his lap. Link tossed it into the gently flowing river and stretched out on the rock with his arms folded behind his head.

They sat in relative silence for a few long minutes. The ranch girl closed her eyes and hummed a tranquil song that made Link drowsy. He watched the clouds pass overhead and reflected on all the people he'd met the past few days— the old, gray knights in Sir Dryden's entourage, the mysterious Exile, even proud Phineas Forthwind and his posse of eager green boys.

"You know, Malon," Link said, with Phineas' yellow-toothed sneer in mind, "I have observed a handful of men these past few days who're only here for glory... But I'm sure Sir Dryden isn't one of them."

Malon's nose scrunched as she looked away. Link rolled over onto his stomach. His gaze flicked up to the ranch girl perched on the rock with her hands wrapped around her knees. "Do you think you could give him a second chance? I'm sure—"

"True knights shouldn't need second chances." Malon shook her head and locked eyes with Link. "It should be you in the armor leading these men."

A sarcastic huff escaped Link's lips. "I'm no leader, Malon— just a warrior." _You may have fought in many battles... but you don't know how to lead..._ "Having courage and convincing others to have courage are two different things. Sir Dryden knows his men better than anyone. I'm sure he will get the best out of them when the time comes."

"I hope you're right," Malon sighed, "for all our sakes..." Silence again followed the ranch girl's words, but this time she filled the void song with an old folk song about the hero of old.

_"Oh youth, guided by the servant of the goddess, unite earth and sky, and bring light to the land."_

Link could have lain on the river bank for hours watching the dogs play while the horses grazed, clinging to every enchanting note of Malon's song—if not for the dark cloud circulating in the western sky. Eventually, it drew so close, it devoured the sun's warm rays. Malon's song died on the cool breeze rippling across the water's surface.

Link pulled his boots back on as Malon casually asked him what came of the medallion. When he told her about finding Caedmon Aelstan in the Lost Woods, her mouth fell open in disbelief.

"But how'd he survive in the forest for so long?" Her nose scrunched as she thought. "Aren't Hylians supposed to die in the Lost Woods?"

"I lived there," Link said pointedly, "and I didn't die."

"Yeah, but you're a fairy boy. You're different."

"I suppose..." Link muttered, unconvinced. He had also wondered how Caedmon survived in the Lost Woods for so long. Legend stated that Hylians who lingered in the forest turned into Stalfos, and though Link wasn't sure if there was truth to the folk tale, he did know it was highly unlikely for a man to live for thirty years in the dangerous forest without help— magical help. Caedmon didn't seem like the kind of guy who knew magic.

"Well?" Malon pressed, refocusing Link's wandering thoughts. "What's he like?"

"He's, well..." Link's brow furrowed as he reflected on the old knight. "He's kind of quiet, very no-nonsense."

Malon giggled. "Sounds a lot like you."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well," she shrugged, "you both lived in the forest, and you both seem to have difficulty putting the past behind you..."

"But I didn't exile myself there." Link eyed Malon with utter disbelief. "The forest was my home."

"Was your home, sure," the ranch girl said stubbornly, "when you really were a fairy boy, but what about these past five—"

 _Dong...dong..._ the deep tolling of a bell reverberated through the valley. Link and Malon simultaneously turned north to face the Black Wall of Kenton. Only the High Tower, where the knights met every evening to deliberate, could be seen over the top of it from the distance. The great bronze bell sounded from the top of the tower, its low, creaking chime sending a shiver down Link's spine.

Without a word, Malon signaled for her dogs. The hounds barked in response and set off to corral the bay stallion. Link whistled for Epona and began saddling her up. The mare nibbled affectionately at his bangs as the young Hylian tightened the leather straps of her saddle.

"Not now." He huffed and pushed her nose away. Epona snorted her disapproval.

Link shot the mare a testy look before his gaze darted back up to the Black Wall. The Five Flames, traditionally lit at sundown, danced atop the wall like they did on the night Link first arrived. He didn't need a knight to tell him the flames, like the whirling black cloud, were bad signs.

Link swung onto Epona as Malon trotted up on her bay stallion. "Lead the way to camp, Fairy Boy," she said with a confident smile. Her tone of excitement unnerved Link.

"Malon," he stiffly replied, "I want you to promise me you'll be long gone by sundown. Don't be near this place when the battle starts."

The ranch girl's assured smile melted into a look of confusion. "I _could_ stay and help. I'm not a bad marksman, you know, and I can do all sorts of stuff— fetch supplies, tend to the wounded—"

"No, Malon," Link barked. His hands tightened on the reins. "I won't be the one to tell your father that you're not coming home."

"Who says I'm not gonna go home, Fairy Boy?" She rolled her eyes. "Geez, lighten up—"

"Please, just go back to the ranch, Malon," Link pleaded. He wanted to tell her about the melting wall, the dead men, and the eye... but there was not sufficient time. "Now!"

"But I can—"

"Just trust me, Malon. You have no idea what's coming—"

"And you do?" She raised a brow. The bell tolled again and again as Link's patience waned. Malon sat tall in her saddle and fixed Link with a cool look. "Fine!" She huffed and turned her stallion east. "Have it your way, Fairy Boy."

The stallion whinnied as Malon planted the heel of her boot in its side. Link knew he wounded the ranch girl's pride, but he couldn't dwell on her hurt feelings. _At least she would be safe..._

Link followed the shoreline north to the encampment, where pandemonium ensued. Tents collapsed left and right as men piled their supplies into wagons, pulled on armor, and strapped swords and shields to their backs. Link headed straight for the Great Tent, still standing when he arrived. He slid from Epona, not bothering to hitch her up, and darted inside.

The tent's interior had been gutted and the fire put out. The girl with the raven braid scurried around with a panicked expression, throwing the last of the linens into a wicker basket. Phineas, Marron, and the twins pulled on what armor and mail they had around the smoking pit in the center of the main space. The Exile ducked from under the entryway to Sir Dryden's chambers.

"What's going on?" Link shouted over the clamor as he darted past the others. "Where's Sir Dryden?"

The Exile's stoic black eyes fixed on Link, but it was Phineas who responded, "Gone to the High Tower." There was fear in the ginger's sneer. "We're mobilizing for the Valley. The Ten'al-tarians have been spotted moving south toward the desert."


	15. Chapter 15

"Where's Sir Dryden?" Link shouted over the clamor of the camp.

The Exile's stoic black eyes fixed on Link, but it was Phineas who responded, "gone to the High Tower." Fear laced the ginger's words. "We're mobilizing for the Valley. The Ten'al-tarians have been spotted moving south toward the desert."

"The desert?" Link stammered. "That can't be!"

"Nayru's Love," Phineas snorted as he fidgeted with his breastplate's straps, "is this another one of your wet dreams?"

Link rolled his eyes, but before he opened his mouth to respond, the Exile grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "The High Tower tops the city's highest plateau. The road to reach it is long and winding." The Exile's thunderous voice sliced through the panic-stricken air like cold steel. "Move quickly."

Phineas' breastplate slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a loud clank. "You, you talk?" The ginger gawked and pointed at the dark-skinned man.

The Exile did not respond. His unblinking, black eyes stayed focused on Link.

 _He believes me... but why?_ Link fought to suppress the questions lingering on the tip of his tongue. Instead, the young Hylian responded with a succinct "Thanks, Aelgar." A smile flashed across the young Hylian's face as he wheeled back through the tent's entrance.

The air was thick with smoke and screams. The black storm cloud inched closer by the second. Knights on horseback shouted commands and herded groups of men-at-arms into neat, ready-to-march rows. Everywhere, green banners bearing strange crests flapped against the stormy sky.

Epona stamped her hooves and snorted when Link bolted out of the tent. "Sorry girl," he tutted and swung into the saddle. "There's no time— ha!" He planted his heels in the mare's sides, and Epona dashed forward. Link's heart pounded as the chestnut mare darted past men clanking in their armor and carts waiting to pass beneath the Black Wall.

There was only one entrance into the five-sided city of Kenton— an arched gateway on the far-eastern edge. Dozens of carts and mules awaiting inspection were lined up outside it. Link nudged Epona to the front of the line, where a guard with a red-plumed helm halted him.

"Woah, kid. Where do you think you're going?"

Link sat high in his saddle and tried to sound important. "I have a message for Sir Dryden de Vaux, commander of the Army of Faron."

The guard's eyes narrowed onto Link through the slits in his visor. "Let me see this message."

"See the message?" Link forced an appalled tone. "You honestly think there was time to write a letter now?"

"I see..." the guard hesitated, and for a moment, Link thought he was clear.

"Well," the guard added, "who gave you this message?"

"Uh... the old knight with the white armor, Sir Dryden's second in command." Link racked his brain trying to think of the name as the guard eyed him suspiciously. "Sir Aeduuin... Aeduuin de Beauchamp!" The name finally tumbled from his lips. The line of carts pressed against the arched gateway, and the villagers' discontented roar grew more and more irritable by the second.

"Get a move on!" a woman with two babes clutched to her breasts yelled. "We don't have till dawn!"

"Yeah, an why don' he 'ave t'wait?" An old toothless man jabbed a pitchfork in Link's direction.

"All right," the guard caved and stamped his lance in the dirt. "Be on your way, boy, but know the gates are closing after the commanders leave. If you're not out of the city before then, you won't be marching."

Link nodded curtly and urged Epona forward. _I hope no one marches..._ the young Hylian thought darkly as the mare plunged into the jam-packed heart of the city.

Everything about Kenton, from the sleek, black stone streets and houses to the pentagon shape of the city's five layers, echoed the Black Wall looming overhead. Smoke rose from the chimneys of a dozen different smitheries— iron, steel, bronze, silver, gold and more. Shops, bars, and artisan carts lined both sides of the main thoroughfare. Panicked women, crying children, and confused old men shuffled along the cobblestone, seeking refuge deeper in the city. _This is a military town,_ Link thought as he passed a third armory.

The further along Epona plunged, the more narrow the streets became. Yellow lights glowed inside windows carved into the rock along the city's second and third layers. Link held his breath each time he turned a corner, hoping he might see Sir Dryden's polished silver helm ahead, but he never did.

By the time Link reached the fourth layer, the unmarked, wooden doors gave way to bronze-cast thresholds decorated with banners, crests, and flowers in the windowsills. The eyes of old men and curious boys standing watch followed Link as he sped up the winding street.

Finally, he passed beneath an iron archway, and the street opened up into a wide plateau with the High Tower in its center. Kenton's fifth and smallest layer was close enough to the top of the Black Wall that Link could see the tips of the western mountains beyond it. A dozen Gorons unloaded Powder Kegs from a cart and piled them at the bases of three westward-facing catapults. Link's eyes grazed over targets and bales of hay scattered around the yard, but there was no sign of Sir Dryden... _I'm too late._

A black pentagonal building that could only be the Keep jutted out from the base of the High Tower. Two more guards stood watch outside its entrance marked by a threshold of melted steel swords. Curses, Link muttered beneath his breath. _They're everywhere!_

The second he dismounted, the guards bellowed a shrill "Halt!" and crossed their lances. "You can't go in there, boy!" The guard to Link's left puffed out his chest. "This meeting's for commanders only."

Link cleared his throat and tried to sound important. "I have an urgent message for Sir Dryden de Vaux."

"The commander will speak with you when he is finished with the meeting," the guard proclaimed with his nose in the air.

"But you don't understand..." Link fought to suppress the frustration creeping into his tone. "It's urgent!"

"Don't make us ask you again." The guards clashed their lances together, making a clanking noise that might have scared off a rat, but certainly not Link. Instead, the young Hylian sighed and stepped back. His glance darted between the two guards. _He could take them..._ Link's fingers twitched with an eager desire to draw his sword. _Their lances were too long and clumsy to bring him down if he struck quickly..._

"Link?"

A gravelly voice met the young Hylian's ears. He spun around and drew chest level with the rock-hard stomach of a Goron.

"What in Farore's name?" Link rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing straight. "Darunia! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Brother." The Goron leader's wild obsidian eyes regarded him with warmth.

Link exhaled in relief and ran his fingers through is hair. "Boy, am I glad to see you. I, err..." The young Hylian paused, glanced toward the guards, and motioned for Darunia to follow him out of earshot. After they drew up alongside one of the catapults at the edge of the yard, Link leaned in close and whispered, "It's my dreams, Darunia... I dreamed a great battle would happen here, in the shadow of the Black Wall."

The Goron leader's craggy brow wrinkled. "But the scouts saw—"

"I know what the scouts saw," Link cut him off, "but it's a trap! The battle happens here, I'm sure of it." Darunia listened with a stoic expression etched into the lines of his stoney face as Link recounted his latest dream.

"So..." Link swallowed when he finished the story. "Do you believe me? Do you understand why we can't march?"

Lightning cracked overhead. The flash flickered red in Darunia's eyes, and his frown transformed into a fearsome grimace. "Come with me, Brother," he said, and turned to walk back to the Keep's entrance.

Link followed without question. Wind rustled through the red-feathered tufts on top of the guards' helms so that their heads looked like they were on fire. Again, they lowered their lances and shouted, "Halt!" but Link detected a bit more fear in their voice when they looked up at Darunia.

The Goron Boss glared at them in return. "I am Darunia, Big Boss of the Gorons. The Grand Master is expecting me."

"Oh y-yes, of course," the guard on the left choked. "Straight through into the main hall."

"B-but the kid waits outside." The other guard glared at Link.

Darunia stood firm and folded his arms across his chest. "The kid is with me."

"O-our orders were to—"

"Damn your orders," the Goron Boss growled. "You think those sticks keep you safe?" Darunia wrapped his boulder-sized hands around the guards' helms and crashed them together. Link watched, wide-eyed, as the sentries fell to the floor in a limp clatter of steel and mail. Neither uttered so much as a whimper.

"Ha!" Darunia chuckled. "They'll be fine. Besides, they're in better shape like this than if you'd taken the sword to them." Link reached back to touch the hilt of his blade and laughed as he stepped over the bodies and followed Darunia into the Keep.

The interior had the feeling of a great hall. There was a triangular trapdoor in each of the windowless room's five corners. Link craned his neck to peek beneath the one propped open on his right as he entered, but all he could see was a dark stairwell spiraling down into the city's interior. A fire blazed in the hearth along the north-facing wall. In the center of the room, five long tables were arranged into a pentagon shape around a three-sided black-marble slab. An iron chandelier hung above it, illuminating the surface.

Five figures gathered around the edges of the black block. Link noticed Princess Ruto and Sir Dryden instantly, and he vaguely recalled the old knight in gold-plated armor from the council meeting. The other two— a black-haired man with fierce purple eyes and an older man about Caedmon's age— he had never seen before. As Darunia strode up to the table with Link in his wake, all but the gold-armored old knight looked up.

"Link?" Ruto and Sir Dryden said simultaneously. The Zora Princess' bright eyes sparkled with delight while Sir Dryden gaped in disbelief. Link waved bashfully and ducked his head to divert their gazes.

A map with clay flags scattered over its surface had been rolled out atop the triangular stone slab. The master knight hunched above it, brow furrowed, stroking the wisps of white hair growing from his cheeks. When Darunia and Link reached the edge of the slab, the two knights Link didn't recognize exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke until—

"Darunia," the old knight grumbled without looking up. "I specifically recall designating this meeting for officers only."

"I remember," Darunia grunted through a tight-lipped frown. Rather than responding to the master knight, he turned to Link and said, "This is Grand Master Carnell Bourdekin, commander of the Hylian Army. Grand Master," he addressed the gold-armored knight, "this is Link, my Sworn Brother and Hero of the Gorons."

"Indeed." The Grand Master's jowls quivered. He flicked his fierce emerald gaze onto Link for a second before turning back to the map in front of him. "Darunia, show this kid out and don't undermine my orders again."

The Grand Master's tone did not sit well with Link. He didn't care who the knight was; no one talked to Link's friends with such coldness. Without thinking, Link found himself belting out, "Sir, I don't care who you think I am. I must be allowed to speak!"

"You _must_ speak?" A great purple vein pulsed in the master-knight's bald head. "Boy, no one tells me what they _must_ do!"

"I'm not a boy, sir," Link stared straight into the Grand Master's leering eyes. The two knights Link didn't know exchanged wide-eyed glances, Sir Dryden's face turned the color of sour milk, and Ruto covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

 _Now I've done it..._ Link cursed himself. He thought briefly of how tactfully Zelda handled the nobles at the council meeting and wished the Goddesses had blessed him with a similar grace.

A long, silent minute passed. The other commanders shifted restlessly in their armor, but the master knight did not respond. He stood at the point of the black-stone slab with his arms folded behind him. Firelight reflected off the top of his head as he examined Link from head to toe.

"No, you're not a boy," the Grand Master broke the silence. "You're an impudent boy. Didn't your father teach you how to respect your lords?" His tone was more curious than accusatory.

"I didn't know my father, sir," Link answered honestly, trying to anticipate what the Grand Master was getting at.

"Your surname, then?"

Link shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what to say. Grand Master Bourdekin unfolded his arms and placed his balled up fists on the map in front of him. "Boy, who's your commanding officer?"

"I am, Grand Master," Sir Dryden said in an oddly high voice and diverted the old knight's glare.

"A Faron boy? And whose banner does he ride under?"

"Mine own." Sir Dryden's cheeks flushed red, making Link feel guilty. "The queen personally asked me to bring him on, Sir. She said he has fighting experience."

"Is that so?" Grand Master Bourdekin considered Sir Dryden doubtfully and turned back to Link. "Just where, might I ask, did this 'fighting experience' come from?"

Ruto and Darunia shot Link testy glances. The young Hylian bit his lip and replied, "No place you've ever heard of, Grand Master." He winced as soon as the words came out. Everything he said sounded worse aloud.

"Sir," Darunia jumped in, "Link here slew a fully-grown Dodongo at an age when most Hylian boys are still playing with wooden sticks."

Ruto added, "He slew a monster inside the belly of our exalted Jabu-Jabu as well."

"Hmm..." The Grand Master gaped at Link like he had Chu Jelly oozing from his ears. It made the young Hylian feel oddly vulnerable. He couldn't figure out what made the master knight different from other men. He was old and gray, not too tall, not muscular, strong, or limber. Yet, for some reason, the other knights listened to him. _They feared him..._

"Well, boy," Grand Master Bourdekin said, "you're stubborn as a Moblin and might be just as stupid, but it seems you have some friends in high places. What is it you wish to tell us? Best say it and be on your way."

"I came to offer a word of advice— Sir," Link added quickly. "You cannot, I mean should not, leave the Black Wall— not tonight at least. I have reason to believe that the Ten'al-tarians mean to strike here."

"Our scouts saw—"

"A diversion," Link finished, "meant to lure the bulk of our strength away from the Black Wall."

The master knight stroked the whiskers on his jowls and ground his teeth together. "And how did you come by this information?"

Link bit his lip. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sir Dryden inhale deeply to brace himself. "I-I saw it in a dream."

"A dream?"

"Mine often come true, sir," Link added quickly, even though he knew how little validity it added to his assertion.

A moment of silence passed. The Grand Master held his chin in his hands. His eyes fixed on Link. "Sir Dryden!"

"Yes!" the young commander blurted in surprise.

"You said the queen entrusted this boy to you?"

"Yes, sir. She asked me—"

"Boy," the Grand Master leaned forward against the marble slab. His golden armor shimmered in the firelight. "You've been hanging around this young queen of ours too long."

"It's the truth!" Link blurted out. "I saw the Black Wall fall to a man with a glass eye. I watched Zora's River fill with blood and the men around me turn into corpses!"

"Dreams, te... This is folly!"

"Folly it may be, but you must consider what the consequences would be if I'm right, and we're not here to defend Kenton!" The words came naturally to Link's tongue and spilled out without the filter of courtesy. "There's a hundred leagues of open field between the desert and the castle. Even if the Ten'al-tarians managed to take Gerudo's Fortress, cross the Valley, storm Remington, and take the city in one day, we'd have time to meet them in the open field. But Kenton... if the Ten'al-tarians took this city, with all its supplies, they'd only be a day's march from Castle Town!"

A deafening silence followed Link's diatribe. He breathed heavily and gazed around the table. The commander with the violet eyes exchanged looks of astonishment with the old knight beside him. Princess Ruto smiled mischievously as her wispy fins glistened in the candlelight. Sir Dryden bit his lip, eyes fixed on the Grand Master, and Darunia laid a thick, boulder-sized hand on Link's shoulder.

"Is that all you have to say?" Grand Master Bourdekin grumbled. His eyes fell again to the map, and he shuffled some of the clay flags across the surface.

"Yes." Link chewed his lip. "Sir."

"Then you may leave."

"But, I—"

"Now!" The Grand Master barked. He slapped his hand down on the black marble, scattering a legion of red flags. "And learn how to hold your tongue before you lose it!"

Darunia gave Link's shoulder a surprisingly gentle squeeze, and the young Hylian understood there was no use in pressing the issue forward. Link turned his back on the table, knowing that he had placed the fate of Hyrule into the hands of those with power.

 _Power._ The word tasted like bile in the back of Link's throat. He never seemed to have much of it. Link cursed beneath his breath as he stepped into the night air that smelled thick with rain. _Let these 'great men' do what they want. I never needed anyone's help before._

* * *

Had Caedmon Aelstan risen from the dead?

A week ago he'd been nothing more than a Deku Scrub hiding from the world inside his isolated forest home. Now he was back at court, as Groom of the Stool no less, walking the same halls he'd walked as a young knight, a young husband, and— for however briefly— a young father.

The past was all around Caedmon, and to his astonishment, he didn't feel pained by it. The old knight constantly recognized more names and faces from old King Daedalus' court. Meguil Murdoc, the master of household, had been a cup-bearer then. Absalom de Caulmont had been Prince Auberon's ward, and Godric Benedict, a stablehand.

Caedmon spent his mornings watching the queen hold court, his afternoons in the library, and his evenings supping alone in his chambers. At night, when he couldn't sleep, Caedmon went for walks around the moonlit grounds. The old knight strolled past the tower he scaled a dozen times when he courted Lydia in secret and the knight's training grounds where he won his first tourney. After thirty years, the memories finally brought a smile to his face.

Every day Caedmon became more acclimated to his surroundings, even though the rest of the castle grew more anxious. Then, on the morning of the sixth day after the king's death, a black-haired boy hobbled into the Great Hall with harrowing news— the war had started. After the queen dismissed the panicked courtiers, she met with her small council in the closed confines of the royal study. Caedmon listened intently as Zelda relayed to them her suspicions of treason.

"I think we have reason to believe, given the calculated nature of the ambush, that the attackers sought something from the riding party. Moreover, I do not believe the Ten'al-tarians could have acted directly. I fear a traitor among us, my lords."

Amery Middleton, a bookish young girl, squeaked her agreement. "The Ten'al-tarians would have needed to pass by Lake Mill House and through Remington unseen in order to reach the Southern Road where the attack occurred." She unrolled a map on the queen's desk and traced her finger around the edge of Lake Hylia where the Southern Road ran. "Highly improbable, given the influx of troops stationed around the valley."

Godric Benedict flicked the crimson fletching of the arrow the boy, Benjamin Gerhardt, had brought back with him. "No two fletchers' arrows look alike. This man works out of Kakariko."

"The red feather comes from a bird native to Death Mountain." The Sheikah woman's deep voice sent a shiver down Caedmon's spine and her red eyes made him weary. He remembered what his father told him about the Sheikah: "Never trust a man with red eyes, son. Those folk commune with the dead." But Caedmon's father also told him things like if you bit your tongue it meant you told a lie, or a knife placed under the birthing bed will ease the pain of labor. The few Sheikah Caedmon fought beside during the war he'd liked well enough; though he still couldn't shake the queer feeling he felt around the strange woman who followed the young queen like a shadow.

"I have heard much about this czar." The queen spoke in a somber voice. "His people love him. They rose up against his father to plant him on the throne a decade ago, but Zel-Aran chose to wait for the crown the lawful way. In doing so, he only managed to endear himself to his future subjects all the more. They believe him a prophet the Goddesses sent to deliver them back to the holy land."

"Our land," the queen's new secretary whispered.

"The land of their ancestors as well as ours." The large mahogany desk swallowed the queen as she sat behind it. In swift, looping motions she penned two letters relaying the lad's story— one for the Grand Master in Kenton, the other for the forces stationed in Gerudo Valley— and a third commanding the Kakarikan fletcher to appear before the court within a fortnight.

"Any one person," the queen said as she wrote, "who has such a zealous following is dangerous. If Czar-Aran has Hylians working for him on the inside, he is deadly. Lord Benedict." Her gaze flicked up to the burly, dark-haired Master of Hunt. "I want you to act in the stead of Sir Ventripont whilst he is out chasing Lord Absalom. Escort Lady Veronica to the Eastern Tower. Allow her all the luxuries befitting one of my ladies, but under no circumstances may she leave the confines of the tower. We must also make it known that she is to remain there until her father returns to court to answer for his behavior."

"You suspect Lord Absalom?" Godric raised his thick brow. "He and your father were so close."

"Who better then to betray him?" Caedmon almost balked at the coolness in her tone. "Treason spreads like wildfire, Lord Benedict. If Lord Absalom has turned against the crown, I pray he acted alone." The queen set down her quill and signaled for the sealing wax. Finally, after dispatching the decrees, Zelda dismissed all of the councilors except her guardian and Caedmon.

The old knight rocked back and forth on his heels as the other councillors filed through the door to the foyer. After it clicked shut, the young queen sank back into the chair behind the mahogany desk. Rain pattered lightly against the arched window, and a dim overcast light leaked into the room. Silence filled the study and made Caedmon uneasy. He kept one eye on the Sheikah woman standing at the corner of the desk, arms folded across her chest, and the other on Zelda, wearily messaging her temples— the first sign of vulnerability the young queen had shown all morning.

"This is not a normal storm," Zelda finally said in a soft voice. "I feel dark powers rising. Can you feel it too, Impa?"

"Yes, Your Grace." The Sheikah bowed her head. Caedmon drew up beside her and noticed she towered almost half a foot above him.

"And the Shadow Temple?" Zelda added. "Have there been any whispers within?"

"The dead grow restless, Your Grace. The evil spirits smell blood in the air."

The Sheikah's words hung in the room. _Could Father have been right?_ Caedmon's jaw tightened. Talk of shadow temples and spirits unnerved him.

The young queen rose and turned to face the window with her hands clasped behind her. Neither Caedmon nor Impa said anything as Zelda stared blankly out through the rain-covered window, brow furrowed and lips pursed in thought. She looked so much like her mother that when the old knight blinked, he swore he was standing beside Princess Cordelia. They had the same blonde hair, slender face, and sad eyes, though Cordelia's had been bright purple.

"I want you to go to the Temple, Impa," the young queen said in a voice hardly above a whisper. "See if you can find out anything about this dark power of the Ten'al-tarians. I want to know more about the brother and sister and this Book of Mudora. We've exhausted our resources at the castle."

"Your Grace, I am under oath to protect—"

"I have Caedmon here." The queen flashed the old knight an all-knowing look that made him stiffen. _She seems to know more about me than I do,_ Caedmon mused. Lydia had been the same way.

 _Make sure the princess makes it into hiding with the ocarina,_ his wife had whispered to him in the stables as the last battle of the war waged around them. _Its safety is far more important than mine..._

"The Ten'al-tarians are jealous of Hyrule's prosperity," the young queen urged her caretaker. "Zel-Taren admitted as much. Everything we know so far points back to this book."

Caedmon tried to listen and conjure something reassuring to say, but all the old knight could think of was Lydia. _We must do our part to protect Hyrule, to fulfill our oath to the Crown,_ her voice rang in his ear. Though Caedmon loved Lydia more than the realm itself, Duty had been her first love— and Duty killed her.

Would Duty be the end for him too? Wasn't that what he wanted? Hadn't he told the queen a few days ago that he wished to wait this war out?

Somehow she'd pulled him in, and now it was too late to run— but did he want to anymore? The only thing that Caedmon knew for sure was what Lydia would have wanted of him. Duty... he could still hear her preaching... _fulfill your oath._

Then suddenly, another voice rang in his ear— a deeper, sadder voice— Link's voice. _Don't worry about me,_ it said, _for now, we must do our part to protect Hyrule._

Just like Lydia.

Caedmon loved her from the moment he first saw her. His mission to make himself worthy of her love drove his mad pursuit to rise above the blacksmith's status of his birth. With the help of Gustaf and Sir Jamesen Parker, he learned more than the ways of the sword and bow. He learned how to read and write, how to speak with courtesy, how to bow, when to bow, who was who, and what was what— the essentials for surviving at the Hylian Court. He made himself better for her.

The day Caedmon left behind Ordon, the body of that cantankerous old boil Theode Adalmund, and the final hopes of Lydia's improbable survival, he lost more than the two people he'd cared about most in the world— he lost the very principles he'd built his life upon.

Grief had plunged Caedmon Aelstan into a cursed sleep for thirty years. _Thirty years!_ But, slowly, he was starting to wake up. _Because of Link..._ A new dawn for the old knight rose as the midnight hour for Hyrule ticked closer.

Suddenly, Caedmon found himself wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the sword at his hip and unsheathing the steel. He bent to one knee before the fearsome Sheikah and said, "Mistress Impa, you have my word, on my honor as a knight, that no harm will come to the queen as long as I live." He looked up into her red eyes and did not blink.

"You have a good heart, Caedmon," she said stiffly, "but it is not you heart I doubt."

"I'm not as strong or quick as I once was, but I've always been—"

"Sir Caedmon," the Sheikah cut him off. "I don't doubt your physical prowess either. I suspect your courage."

"Impa," the queen fought to suppress a laugh, "that's preposterous! This is Link's father."

"His father," the Sheikah replied cooly, "but not Link."

Her words stung worse than the bite of the old belt his father used to take to his backside, but he did not balk. Caedmon thought of Link as he rose and sheathed his sword.

 _Self pity,_ the boy told him in the Lost Woods, _it's not born from a desire to run away as cowardice is... it comes from feeling lost._ Caedmon Aelstan was not a coward. Anger, denial, hatred, and disbelief warped his mind and caused him to flee, but did the principles change the act? The Sheikah didn't seem to think so.

"When I said my knightly vows," Caedmon swore in an assured tone, "I pledged my life to the crown's. I know I have not always held steadfast to my decree, but I swear in this time of peril I will stand as firm as my wife and Link have before me."

"I trust him, Impa. I do..." the queen whispered. Again, the strange feeling gripped Caedmon that Zelda knew him better than he knew himself.

The Sheikah's red gazed pierced him so deeply, Caedmon felt she could see through to his soul. After a long silence, she finally nodded. "Very well then. I will go to the Shadow Temple and see what I can find. The ocarina—"

"Must stay safe. I know." Caedmon nodded. "Princesses and ocarinas happen to be my speciality."

He felt soft, slender finders intertwine with his own. The queen's blue eyes shone brightly as she smiled. "Caedmon, I—" she began to say, when suddenly, a golden glow filled the room.

The queen dropped his hand as the old knight blinked. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the Triforce symbol shining brightly on the back of the queen's outstretched hand, just like it had on Link's that morning in the forest.

"Link," Zelda whispered. Her face paled as she choked on the word.

"Your Grace?" The Sheikah dove forward and placed a hand on the queen's shoulder, but the young queen shook it off and turned to face the window.

"Link?" Caedmon said, startled. "Has something happened?" The old knight's heart leapt into his throat.

The light of the glowing Triforce reflected off the glass pane as Zelda gazed blankly across the stormy horizon. "It's started..."

* * *

Link felt the first raindrop hit his head just before he passed beneath the Black Wall. Nearly one thousand men stood in neat units under the green banners of Faron. Link could hardly believe it, until he heard on his way out of town that the armies of Lanayru and Eldin numbered over two thousand each. By the time he rejoined the rest of Sir Dryden's riding party, a steady drizzle fell from the thick clouds rolling with thunder. He pulled the hood of his dark green cloak over his head, but it didn't do much good.

Phineas didn't say anything as Link sidled up between him and the Exile. The ginger's freckled face had turned a ghostly pallor. His knobby knees shook violently against his mount's sides, and the dappled gray mare snorted irritably. To his right, Marron Ashford slumped in his saddle and muttered incoherently. Even the normally buoyant twins had fallen silent. They grasped the flag poles in their hands so tightly their knuckles turned white.

Only the Exile seemed unmoved. He sat tall in his saddle, torch at hand, with his normally stoic expression etched into his face. "You reached Sir Dryden."

"I did," Link replied. "I spoke with the Grand Master too, but I don't think he heard me."

The Exile shook his head. "He did."

"How do you—"

"Important men," he said in an understanding tone, "particularly important old men, do not like giving the satisfaction of knowing to those they feel are inferior."

"That's ridiculous!" Link barked.

"The ways of important men often are." Aelgar's black eyes sparkled in the torch-light, making them look more like bright gemstones than endless tunnels. "Alas, my friend, how can two lowly beings such as us comprehend the cultured and enlightened ways of such important men?"

"Important." Link spat out the word, picking up on the Exile's biting sarcasm. "It's not going to help them when the fighting starts."

"Yes and no." Aelgar shrugged his thick shoulders. Beads of water slid off them, slick as ice. "Importance is the value others see in someone. The Grand Master is older, slower and weaker than most who serve beneath him, but he has won many battles. He comes from a prominent family. He has gold. He has sons. He has respect. Others think those things are important. If a man has important things, then he must be valuable, right?"

 _Of course not!_ Link wanted to shout, but he held his tongue and pondered the Exile's words for a moment. _Importance is the value others see in someone..._ Link knew he had value, but the qualities that made him important weren't ones that could be seen. Darunia and Princess Ruto saw his value because they knew the things he'd done. Being the Hero of Time made him important, but no one could ever know about it, and if no one could know about it, did it matter?

That idea was too infuriating for Link to accept. He spent five years trying to forget the Hero of Time, only to realize he didn't know who he was besides the hero. Now he was being told that the Hero of Time didn't matter because people couldn't see that side of him. If he couldn't be the one thing he knew he was... then what was he at all?

He was Link the nameless. Link, the queen's commoner lover. Link, the kid with the dreams. The tall-talker, the arrogant, the kid with friends in high places who claimed to be a hero.

"But what about the things that people don't see?" he reasoned aloud. "The things on the inside like courage and wisdom?"

"Ah yes," Aelgar exhaled deeply, "the things that truly matter. Men are judgmental by nature; they think too much with their eyes. A man looks at you and sees a scrawny boy, without a sigil, without a banner, without even a name. How can a man be important without those things?"

Link opened his mouth to protest, but the sound of a horn blaring from the rear of the lines cut him off.

"So, our valiant young commander returns." Aelgar straightened in his saddle. Link did the same and craned his neck to see over the helms of the men in front of him. Whispers spread throughout the ranks as Sir Dryden made his way to the front. Link heard the sounds of Phineas retching beside him and horses stomping irritably as their riders shook nervously in their saddles. The tension in the air thickened with every raindrop.

Sir Dryden trotted to the front of the lines and steadied his bay destrier alongside Sir Euron. Raindrops splattered lightly across the top of the hawk-beaked helm. Sir Dryden squinted, scanned the lines, and motioned for Link the moment he spotted him. Link nudged Epona forward as the young commander removed his silver helm.

"Do you have any shame, Link?" Sir Dryden sighed, shaking out his sweaty hair in the rain.

"Shame?" Link pursed his lips and shrugged. "I don't know. It's fear I'm not keen on."

"Apparently so." The young commander spoke in his familiar jaunty tone. The color had returned to his cheeks since leaving the Keep. "Fortunately, our Grand Master was in a receptive mood. Some scouts he sent into the mountains haven't come back yet. There may be some factual basis to your theories after all—"

"So we're staying?" Link did little to mask the eagerness in his tone, and Sir Dryden chuckled.

"The Grand Master thinks it in our best interest to hold for now."

Link glowed in satisfaction as a dozen more knights, clanking in their armor, moved in around them. The sigils on their breastplates— various assortments of animals, symbols, and script— signaled their 'importance'. Link thought of the crest on his mother's medallion and wondered if he had it with him, whether the knights would consider him important too.

"Sir Aeduuin," Sir Dryden turned to his silver-haired second-in-command. "What was our final count?"

"Nine-hundred seventy-four, my lord. As many boys and men that could be spared at harvest time."

"Hmm..." Sir Dryden nodded, clearly not satisfied. He slicked his wet hair back and paused to consider the old knight's report. He seemed to remember Link after a moment. "Best you rejoin the others, Link," the young commander said, only half-jesting. "You've caused me enough trouble today."

Link nodded and obeyed without protest. As he backed Epona into line between Phineas and Aelgar, the knights closed in around Sir Dryden, shielding the commander from view. Even over the sound of the rain, however, Link didn't have to strain to hear Sir Dryden. The young commander abandoned his normally cheerful tone for a more forceful one. Its power carried through the night air. "The Grand Master has reason to suspect the Ten'al-tarians are heading this way."

A middle-aged knight with a green tree on his breastplate spoke up. "But didn't the scouts see—"

"Who knows?" Sir Dryden cut him off. "A number of scouts haven't returned and they're the ones the Grand Master's concerned with. Moreover, there's been no word from Gerudo Valley." The young commander paused before continuing forcefully. "The reality of the situation is we're to brace for an attack from the West."

The knights broke out into whispers— some confused, some unsure, and others trembling with worry. Sir Dryden waited patiently for them to subside.

"But what if the Ten'al-tarians never come?" The green-tree knight spoke again. "What if the first report had it right and Remington falls under siege while we sit here on our asses?"

"And what if they _do_ come, and we're not here to defend the Black Wall? Think about it, Sir Donnestan, how many leagues stand between the Castle Town and Kenton?" Sir Dryden shot him down without hesitation. "You tell me which is the more important stronghold."

"Aye. You have the best of it, commander." The green-tree knight, Sir Donnestan, conceded. He was a bigger man in both height and weight than the others, with a barking voice. "What are the orders then?"

"Faron has the vanguard," Sir Dryden announced. "Each house must send their fifty best archers into the city. Sir Raymon Tarquin is expecting them. The rest of us will form ranks along the stony shore. Every man without a mount should have a spear in his hand. Sir Euron," he turned to the auburn-haired knight holding his hawk-beaked helm in his lap, "you have their command. I want at least four lines. The first row should be close enough to the water to go for a swim. If the Ten'al-tarians can't drift ashore, they can't scale the wall."

Sir Euron bowed respectfully as Sir Dryden continued, his voice gaining in both volume and momentum. "Houses de Beauchamp and d'Auvercher will take the right flank under Sir Aeduuin's command, Houses Waynwood and Hammond, the left flank. Sir Donnestan, you have that charge. The rest— Ackerley, Bramely, Farring— with me in the center."

The jargon sounded so strange to Link, it was like Sir Dryden spoke in a foreign tongue. Link remembered the speech as the way Draven Black used to command the members of his rebel band during Ganondorf's forgotten reign. As much as Link couldn't make sense of Sir Dryden's words, though, they must have made sense to the other knights, because they all nodded continuously in reply.

"Our job," Sir Dryden pointed toward the mountains with pride, "is to keep those kingslaying sons-of-bitches on the western bank. Hear me? The enemy does not set foot on our shore! Any questions?"

No one protested. Sir Donnestan pounded his breastplate with a balled up fist and howled, "For Farore!" A dozen more cries echoed his, but a loud clap of thunder drowned them out.

"May her courage bless us all." Sir Dryden bowed his head and saluted the other knights with a fist over his heart. The others responded similarly as they turned to ride back to their units. After they dispersed, Sir Dryden breathed a heavy sigh.

Link lightly urged Epona forward. "That was well done, sir."

"Why?" Sir Dryden tilted his gaze westward. "Because I took the words right out of your mouth?" There was an odd sense of bitterness to his tone... _or was it fear?_

"No." Link shook his head, confused. "It was the way all those knights look at you— the way you looked at the Grand Master earlier. I don't think I'll ever understand Hylians well enough to command attention like that."

"Quit being modest, Link." Sir Dryden sounded annoyed. "You've already shown a propensity for leadership. I don't think Grand Master Bourdekin's own mother ever talked to him as brashly as you did earlier."

"Is that what leadership is?" Link asked, slightly taken aback by Sir Dryden's edginess. "Telling a bunch of people what to do?"

"That's only part of it, Link. Setting an example is another— backing up our words with actions."

Link chewed his lip and considered the young commander's words. A cool breeze swept across the plain and sent a shiver down his wet spine. After a moment of silence, the young Hylian dared to ask, "So what happens now?"

"What happens?" Sir Dryden exhaled. The corners of his lips turned into a dark smile as he shook out his hair and jammed his helm back on. "You get back in line and start praying that you're wrong."

"I'm not wrong." Link stood firm and shot Sir Dryden a cool glare.

"Well," the young commander lifted his visor and returned his gaze, "then you finally get to show us why the queen thinks so highly of you."

* * *

A few hours later, Link sat atop Epona, wedged between Phineas and the Exile in a row along the stony shore. The Black Wall loomed behind them like a sinister shadow. Hundreds upon hundreds of archers lined the ramparts three rows thick, bows at the ready. The rain's intensity had waxed and waned over the course of the hour, but Link was so wet, he didn't feel the drops anymore.

Zora patrolled the riverbed, armed with javelins. They stayed out of sight for the most part, but every once in a while, Link glimpsed a flash of silvery-blue scales beneath the murky, green water. Three smaller catapult-looking devices had been wheeled onto shore at the base of the Black Wall. Aelgar told Link they were called trebuchets and could be used to hurl powder kegs to the far shore. A few Gorons had come down from the ramparts to operate the trebuchets.

True to Sir Dryden's orders, four rows, each over one-hundred men long, lined the shore with spears outstretched. The first row waded ankle deep in the muddy, shallow water. Behind them, a mass of men in bits of mail and boiled leather sat atop their palfreys and plow-horses. They were armed with lances, rusted swords, pick-axes, and hammers. Most held shields of wood and iron; others didn't have one at all. These were the men plucked from the fields— the enlisted men who didn't have friends like Zelda and Sir Dryden.

Knights stood behind them, mounted on powerful, plated destriers and lean coursers with standard bearers sprinkled amongst them. Their green banners and fancy sigils waved in the chill autumn breeze. Link sat even further back, twenty yards from the base of the Black Wall. Only Sir Dryden, his squire, the twins with their flags, and a few knights Link didn't know stood mounted behind him. From his perch atop the stony shore, however, Link could clearly see the mass of men unfurled before the river, like a rolled out carpet ebbing and flowing over the uneven ground. He'd never seen anything like it, and the sight oddly exhilarated him.

The time for battle ticked threateningly near. There was no sound except the storm's cries waging around them. Phineas' face turned from ghostly white to pale green as his retching continued. He wasn't the only one, either. Everywhere men stood wide-eyed and shivering in their mail, leather, and plate armor. Link grew more and more restless with every minute of standing still. Beside him, the Exile ran a whetstone gently across his curved blade. His expression seemed as stoic and cool as ever. An overwhelming curiosity to learn more about the mysterious foreigner seized him.

"This is not your first battle," Link noted.

The Exile's black-eyed gaze flicked up from his blade. "No."

"It's not even your second, is it?" Link pressed, but Aelgar remained silent and continued to polish his blade. Link bit his lip and tried again. "Did you really kill a man, Aelgar? Is that really why you were exiled?"

"If I have fought in many battles," Aelgar muttered, "then I have killed many men. Otherwise, I would not be here today."

"So that's not why you were Exiled?"

"No." Aelgar gave up sharpening his blade and slid it back through the loop on his belt buckle.

"You were important once," Link guessed, trying to read the Exile's stoic manner. "That's why you don't talk to anyone—"

"Not much gets past you, does it Link?" Aelgar said with an astute look in his eye. "I don't talk because talking is dangerous. Talking is how important men and exiles alike die."

"But we're all going to die eventually," Link added, unfazed, "no matter how important we are."

"Of course," Aelgar said with a smile— a true white-toothed grin that made his face look even more fearsome. "But you and I will live first. We have things to do before the dying comes."

"Important things—"

_AHROOOOO! AHROOOOOOOOOO!_

The low bellow of a warhorn echoed through the valley. "Look! Along the ridge!" Link heard a man shout. Within seconds, hundreds more men picked up the cries. "They're coming!"

Against the darkness of the mountainside, Link could only see the enemy by the torch-light flickering off their black helms. They plunged down the mountainside like a blanket of stars unrolling across the night sky. Hundreds first, then thousands more boiled over the mountain's crest and oozed through cracks and crevices in the rocks.

The war horn blew again. _AHROOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_ The sound made his fingers twitch with anticipation.

A hissing sound filled the air. Dozens of black, round projectiles rained from the sky like hail. Most of them flew over the Black Wall's ramparts, but others missed their mark, bounced off the black stone, and tumbled down onto the Army of Faron. Link couldn't tell what they were until one landed ten feet behind him. It fell on top of a knight in simple gray plate, bounced off his helm, and rolled up to Epona's hooves.

When Link got a good look, he realized it wasn't black at all. Its skin was ghostly white with a sour green tone to the cheeks. Its mouth hung wide open as if it were screaming, and its brow arched high in an expression of anguish. Black blood streamed down its pallid cheeks like ink-colored tears, but in the two sockets where eyes should have been, only dark holes remained.


End file.
